


Renewal

by kitkatbyte, kitzeproductions, TrueIllusion



Series: Familiarity [28]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Anniversary, Birthday, Embedded Video, Fanvids, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, POV Brian Kinney (Queer as Folk), Physical Disability, Romantic Fluff, Video, Video Format: Streaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-13 10:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatbyte/pseuds/kitkatbyte, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitzeproductions/pseuds/kitzeproductions, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueIllusion/pseuds/TrueIllusion
Summary: Conclusion to "Familiarity," in three parts, story by TrueIllusion with a video at the end by kitkatbyte/kitzeproductions.*****Ten years of marriage. Sixteen years of sharing their lives. Supporting each other through joy and pain.Justin and Brian conclude the most tumultuous year of their marriage with reflection, love, and hope for the future.





	1. Past, Present, and Future

_“What are you doing here?”_

_“You mean you haven’t heard?”_

_“It’s the last day of the rest of your life.”_

_“Did I die?”_

_“No. But you’ll wish you had. You’re thirty.”_

*****

Forty six. Forty fucking six. He was supposed to be dead by thirty. He almost was at thirty five.

But here he was, turning forty six.

Justin was right -- he was entering the back half of his forties. And he wasn't too sure how he felt about that.

But he did know that he didn't want anyone to make a big deal about it.

Michael would probably call him and sing to him -- off-key, just like he did every year. Debbie would too. Michael got it honest.

Never mind the fact that he'd just seen Michael the week before, and his oldest and dearest friend had plenty of opportunity to wish him a happy birthday in person. He would still call. There was no escaping it. And there never would be.

They’d probably both be eighty years old, and Michael would still be calling to sing, just like he had every year since they were teenagers. Although the thought of being an octogenarian made Brian shudder.

At least no one was throwing him a death day party this year. Or they’d better not be.

It was still enough to make him want to pull the duvet over his head and stay in bed all day, pretending this day wasn’t even happening. But that wasn’t really an option. He’d have to face it eventually. All he could do was try to keep it as low-key as possible. Just like any other day.

One good thing was that Justin understood why Brian wasn’t fond of celebrating his birthday. The day that Brian was born was also the day that Justin almost died. And while he’d come a long way in dealing with that memory and the ghost of his actions past, it still wasn’t exactly something he cared to think about unless absolutely necessary. His birthday, however, always reminded him.

He knew he needed to start thinking of it as the day that Justin lived -- because he did. And, in December, he’d lived again. Brian was thankful for that, but it was still hard to get through this particular day, knowing how close he’d come to losing Justin before he’d even had the balls to tell him that he loved him.

He didn’t mind celebrating Justin’s birthday -- in fact, he’d come to love doing that -- but Brian himself would still be much happier having his own birthday completely overlooked.

However, this year, Brian didn’t even have the luxury of having his birthday be on a weekday so he could have the convenient excuse of “I have to work” or “Business doesn’t stop just because I was born.” It was a Saturday. Although he supposed that didn’t necessarily mean he couldn’t still try to use work as an excuse. He was a workaholic, after all, and that was well known. Although Justin had been pretty well attuned as of late to when Brian was working too much, and he hadn’t been anywhere near as willing to allow it to go on unabated.

All he needed was a few hours, though. Just enough distraction to have the day feel like any other day.

Justin was asleep until Brian made a move to roll himself over onto his back so he could get out of bed, and then Justin was rolling over too, toward Brian, so he could give him a kiss.

“Happy birthday,” Justin said, smiling sleepily. Brian tried to smile back. “I know, I know. You don’t want it to be a big thing.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Brian pulled himself up so that he was sitting up a little more, noticing that he felt stiff and sore -- apparently his trip to Pittsburgh was still working on catching up with him. “But thanks. Just don’t remind me how old I am.”

Justin laughed. “Don’t worry. I know you’re sensitive about your age, old man.”

Brian rolled his eyes and pushed his legs over the side of the bed, then hoisted himself out of bed and into his wheelchair. “Laugh all you want, but you’ll be 46 someday too.”

“Hey, you said it, not me. And besides, when I’m 46, you’ll be--”

“Don’t even say it.”

Brian could hear Justin laughing behind him as he closed the door to the bathroom and proceeded to take a piss. For some reason, today, the whole process felt a lot more annoying and inconvenient. Probably just general irritation at being one year older. He’d just finished and was working on stripping his pajamas off so he could take a shower, when Justin came barging into the bathroom.

“Can’t a guy get a little privacy?” Brian groused, as Justin fit himself into the space between Brian and the toilet.

“Had to piss.” Justin shrugged.

“And that’s what the half bath by the guest bedroom is for.”

Justin finished and turned to face Brian. “Yeah, but the guest bedroom doesn’t have you.” He traced his finger down Brian’s bare chest and bent down to capture Brian’s lips in a kiss that went on for much longer than was Justin’s usual morning style. He had his hands on Brian’s shoulders and was pushing him back against the wall, either accidentally or on purpose, Brian wasn’t sure which. Justin sucked Brian’s bottom lip as he pulled away, then moved to straddle Brian’s lap in his chair, reaching down to lock the brakes in one smooth maneuver.

“Do you seriously have no idea how beautiful and sexy I think you are?” Justin whispered suggestively in Brian’s ear before kissing him behind it, then continuing down, planting one kiss after another down the side of Brian’s neck. “I don’t care if you’re 29, 39, 46, or 79 -- you’re still the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. You always will be.”

Words that had been spoken long ago echoed in Brian’s head: _You will always be young and you will always be beautiful. You’re Brian Kinney for fuck’s sake!_

Justin hadn’t been there to hear Michael speak those words -- the first time, when they’d been what had convinced him to go to Justin’s prom, or the second time, after Justin had left for New York -- but he was obviously of the same mind.

Justin had his hands pressed into the wall on either side of Brian’s head as he moved back up to cover Brian’s lips with his own, his tongue pressing into Brian’s mouth as Brian’s tongue moved of its own volition to press back.

What followed was a hot-and-heavy makeout session that was clearly intended just for Brian. Perhaps a new version of a birthday blow job.

Justin followed Brian into the shower as well, practically pinning him against the wall again. This time, the throes of passion led them to an in-shower fuck as the warm water ran down both of their bodies.

It took Brian longer to get dressed compared to Justin, as it always did, and by the time he made it into their living area, he found Justin in the kitchen making breakfast.

“French toast,” Justin said as he carefully flipped a slice with the spatula. “I got that low-carb bread you like from the health food store. And fruit instead of syrup.”

Brian’s coffee mug was already sitting on the table, with the sugar shaker alongside it. Brian was well aware that he was quite the contradiction -- unwilling to eat syrup, yet he was about to pour several teaspoons of sugar into his coffee. It was all about balance, he supposed.

“You’re making a big deal out of this,” Brian said, stirring the sugar into his coffee.

“What?”

“My birthday.”

“So now I can’t make my husband breakfast?” Justin turned around and gave Brian his best dewy-eyed innocent look. Christ, he was even better at that than Michael.

“Not on my birthday, no. Looks suspicious.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing suspicious about my cooking you breakfast.” He plated up the french toast and brought the two plates over to the table, one at a time. “I’ve done it several times in the last few weeks, in case you’ve forgotten. And I make our dinner most nights too. So I daresay this isn’t unusual.”

“I bet you have other things planned though. Birthday things.” Even though Brian knew Justin understood his desire to keep his birthday low-key, he also knew that it was usually difficult for Justin to pull that off, and he would, more often than not, have at least one or two things planned. They were never anything huge -- usually just an evening out, or a new sex toy they could play with. But Brian had come to expect it and knew it was probably happening, no matter how much Justin tried to play coy.

As predicted, Michael called right after breakfast, already singing before Brian even managed to say hello. Debbie’s call didn’t come until after lunch, because she’d worked the graveyard shift at the diner the night before, but it was every bit as grating as it always had been -- and yet, at the same time, full of love.

“Happy birthday, kiddo,” she said, once she’d finished singing. “Forty fuckin’ six. Can you believe it?”

“No, and I don’t need any reminders.”

“Hell, we’re all getting older… You’re not immune, as much as you might like to think so.”

“Not to worry, I gave up on that a long time ago.”

“I’m proud of you, kiddo. I hope you know that.”

“Thanks, mom.” Brian smiled to himself as he shuffled some of the papers on his desk, part of the work he was busying himself with in order to distract from what day it was. “One question, though...at what point does the statute of limitations run out on you calling me ‘kiddo?’”

“Never. You’ll always be a kid to me -- that smart-mouthed, skinny kid who followed Michael home from school one day and never left.”

“I thought you said I was a bad influence.”

“Sometimes you were, and you fuckin’ know it. Don’t think I don’t know you two used to smoke pot in the backyard while I was at work. And don’t get me started on the day you both came home from school drunk off your asses. But I also knew how much you two needed each other. You’re brothers. My two sons. Anyway, I’ll let you go before I get too sappy. I just wanted you to know how proud I am to think of you as my own. Love you, kiddo. Be good to Sunshine.”

“I will, Deb. Love you too.”

As Brian hung up the phone, he was reminded of how much he’d rather count Debbie Novotny as his mother than Joan Kinney. After all, Debbie had done more for him from the age of fourteen on than Joan had done the entire previous decade and a half.

Brian was a little surprised at how long Justin let him keep working in the office without even coming in to check on him. Maybe he sensed how much Brian needed the distraction on this particular day.

It was late afternoon before Justin came in and stood behind Brian, rubbing his shoulders and commenting on the artwork for the GoodLife Connection ad.

“Is that Alison?”

“Yeah. You should see some of the things these people are working on. It’s fucking amazing. I love going over there for meetings, just because I can’t wait to see what new thing they want me to promote.”

“Think you’ll be ready to take a break around five?” Justin’s fingers and thumbs were kneading at the knots that seemed to be a permanent feature of Brian’s shoulders at this point, now that his arms had effectively become his legs. Brian could tell how much stronger Justin’s right hand was getting, even though it still didn’t quite do what Justin wanted it to do.

“Mmm…” Brian leaned into Justin’s touch and closed his eyes. “What’s at five?”

“I thought we’d go out for dinner with Rob and Adam. Maybe go to Monetti’s.”

That, he could agree to. Just a simple dinner with friends. No muss, no fuss.

Brian wrapped up what he was working on a few minutes before five, anticipating that Rob and Adam would be coming by the apartment before they headed over, since they had either a long subway ride or a long cab ride to get to Chelsea from Brooklyn, and it was always a good idea to take a bathroom break before heading over to Monetti’s. Brian knew that, and Rob knew it too. So Brian was a little surprised when Justin was ready to walk out the door, and Rob and Adam hadn’t yet shown up.

“Are you ready to go?” Justin asked, his left hand resting on the door handle.

“Yeah, but aren’t Rob and Adam meeting us here?”

“They’re meeting us at the restaurant.”

Brian wanted to question that, but he didn’t. Rob was a big boy and he could handle himself. They’d been there before, and Rob knew what he was getting into. Maybe they’d been planning on going somewhere else beforehand, so it didn’t matter. Regardless, it wasn’t his issue to worry about.

It was a beautiful, sunny day in the city, and the sidewalks were busy as Brian and Justin made their way to the restaurant. As they passed under the High Line, they could see lots of people out for a summer stroll with their families or their significant others. Justin held Brian’s hand for part of the way, until it got hard to steer one-handed and Brian had to let go before he ended up running into someone.

When they got to the entrance to Monetti’s, Brian was surprised to see that the step at the front door had been replaced with a ramp.

“When did this happen?” he asked, confused at the sudden change.

Justin simply shrugged and kept walking, leading the way up the ramp and to the door. “I don’t know,” he said, holding the door open for Brian. “Last week, maybe?”

Nick met them at the door and led them to a table where Rob and Adam were already waiting.

Brian looked over his shoulder at Nick as the man he’d come to think of as a friend over the last several years was laying menus out in front of them. “When did you have a ramp installed?” Brian asked. “How? I know you’d been wanting to for a while but it just wasn’t in the cards, financially.”

“Well, you have a pretty awesome husband, that’s how. And there’s more. The ramp is really the smallest part of this project.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Brian was confused now. He looked around the table at Justin, Rob, and Adam, who were all grinning. They had obviously all been in on this secret, whatever it was.

“That storage closet in the hallway by the bathrooms is now a fully accessible restroom,” Nick said. “And Justin paid for it all, as a birthday gift for you.”

“But how? Where did you get the money to do all of this?” Brian’s gaze settled on Justin, whose sunshine smile was fully illuminated, its brightness spreading to his beautiful blue eyes, which were sparkling in the warm light of the restaurant.

“Well, since you never let me pay for much of anything, and you never have… I've got a lot of money saved up.”

“But what about… How did you...”

“I thought of everything, I promise.” Justin cut him off mid-question. “I had Ted’s help. All of the bases were covered. You know how he is.”

Brian did know exactly how Theodore was. It was why he was in charge of managing the manager of his own little foray into renovation. So he let that drop and tried not to micromanage his own birthday gift.

“I… I don't know what to say. Other than thank you. This is amazing.” Amazing wasn’t even the right word to describe what Brian thought about what Justin had done. Brian worked with words all day long -- finding the right one to say exactly what he wanted to say, usually with aplomb -- but this time, he was speechless. “I don’t deserve this,” he said. What he really meant was, ‘I don’t deserve you.’

Old habits, again.

“You do deserve it,” Justin said, squeezing Brian’s hand. “Besides, I thought it would be really nice to be able to come here and hang out for a few hours and not have to worry about anything. I know it stresses you out to have to rush home. And this helps Nick out, too. Now he can say yes to anyone who asks if his restaurant is accessible.”

Brian wasn’t sure how to respond. He was floored, and certainly surprised, and at the same time so proud of his husband’s big heart. Most of all, he was amazed that Justin had apparently pulled all of this off, from start to finish, on his own, and managed to keep it a secret.

“I feel like it’s my birthday, too,” Nick said. “I’m so grateful to Justin for taking care of all of this for me, and making sure everything was done right. Hopefully it’ll be a benefit to the restaurant too.”

“Oh I’m sure it will,” Rob chimed in. “I know a lot of people who would love to be able to go out for a good meal more often, but their options are limited. This is really helpful to so many people. Too often business owners just aren’t thinking about accessibility. It’s really frustrating. Word will get around when you’re accommodating and you treat people well. And I know you do.”

Nick served them personally that night -- from the wine all the way to the dessert. He’d even put candles in the lemon cake -- although not 46, since he didn’t want to set his restaurant on fire, he joked. Justin’s hand kept reaching for Brian’s underneath the table, and every time it did, they’d share a smile -- one that said Justin understood every emotion Brian was feeling, even the ones he himself couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Nick refused to let anyone pay for any aspect of the meal, insisting that it was the least he could do after all Justin had done for him.

After dinner, they went back to the apartment and drank a little more, until Rob and Adam had to go because their babysitter had a curfew.

Once Brian and Justin were alone, the celebration continued, much in the way one might expect a celebration between Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor to be -- one that took place primarily in the bedroom.

“Thanks again,” Brian said quietly, as they lay together in their bed, their skin still damp from the shower. He could tell that Justin was almost asleep alongside him. “That was a damn good birthday surprise.”

“I’m glad,” Justin said, his words made a little less than clear by the fatigue that seemed to be quickly descending upon him. His eyelids were already drifting closed. “I meant what I said earlier. You deserve it. You deserve everything.” The final word dissolved into a long exhalation as Justin’s body softened against Brian’s and he drifted off to sleep.

Those words were still so hard to hear. So hard to feel. So hard to believe. But he was trying. He really was.

He could hear Rochelle’s voice in his head, imploring him to let himself feel it. That there was no need to continue punishing himself for his past transgressions. Especially those that weren’t his fault. The transgression of his own birth being the biggest one of all.

Brian wrapped his arm more tightly around Justin and allowed his own eyes to close. For 29 years, he’d only seen his birthday as the anniversary of the day he’d come into the world, unwanted and unwelcome. Then, for 16 more, it had been the day he’d nearly lost someone very important to him, whose true importance, at that point, he had yet to fully realize.

This year, though, there was another shift occurring. One that was moving him more toward peace.

He was another year older. But maybe that wasn’t so bad, if it meant he got to spend one more year with Justin. The rest of his years with Justin.

Making new memories.

Brian spent most of the next several days on the phone, thankful that Justin was spending a lot of time in his studio now, because the actual renovation process had begun on the house in Pittsburgh and there were a shit ton of things that needed his input and approval. Every time his phone rang, it seemed like it was either Ted or Eric, the project manager Ted had hired, with another question that they wanted to ask before they got too committed to doing something one way or another.

Brian had finally seen the house for the first time in person during his recent trip to Pittsburgh, spending almost an entire day going over plans and picking out fixtures and trims and colors and thinking that this was an even bigger process than he’d ever dreamed it would be. It wasn’t like when he’d renovated the loft, piece by piece, each time he got a bonus from Marty Ryder. This was going to be happening all at once, and it was a major overhaul.

Jennifer had been right that the rooms were large, but to do what they needed to do with the bathroom in order to make it ADA compliant, they were going to have to take a significant portion of the third bedroom and turn it into part of the bathroom. And while they were doing that, Brian figured, they might as well make it even bigger than required and add a walk-in jacuzzi tub, big enough for two. It would be a custom job, but he could afford it, and he was already looking forward to spending time in it -- with Justin, of course -- at the end of a long workday at the Pittsburgh office.

The rest of the bedroom they were taking over would be used to add on to the closet in the master bedroom, turning it into something they could use to lock up things that they wanted to leave at the house but didn’t want temporary rental guests to have access to.

The kitchen was going to be a major project as well -- lowering the row of upper cabinets, removing some of the lower ones for better access to the sink and countertop from a wheelchair, and replacing the ancient appliances that Brian was wondering how on earth they were still functioning, since they appeared to be straight out of the 1960s.

He’d picked out the hardwood floors that would go in throughout the entire house, and the tile for the kitchen and the bathroom, and he’d even picked out his own paint colors, despite the fact that Ted said Emmett was dying to do the decorating. Since Brian didn’t want a bright pink accent wall in the living room, he figured he’d better do it himself.

They’d used a temporary ramp over the two steps at the back so he could get into the house, since it would be a while before the longer ramps at the front and the back were built and ready. Brian didn’t want it to be a rush job -- he wanted everything to look good. Like it belonged.

Once he’d seen the house in person, he’d found he was even more excited about it than he ever thought he would be, mostly because he couldn’t wait to see the look on Justin’s face when he saw it in person. For that, though, he’d have to wait until December.

Four days after Brian’s birthday, everything shifted once again, just as it always had for the past eleven years, when a different anniversary came around. One that brought with it a strange mixture of feelings and emotions. It was June 21st, the day Brian’s life had changed forever. The day that most of what he’d known for 35 years floated off into oblivion, never to be seen again, leaving him to figure out who the fuck he was now and what all of this meant. It had been a lot to figure out. Sometimes he still wasn’t sure he had it completely figured out, but he had certainly made a lot of progress since then. He was much more secure in who he was in the world -- even more so now than he had been before the accident.

He supposed that was all he could really ask for.

But the actual day was still a weird day, and it probably always would be. A day of what-ifs and unanswered questions.

According to Rob, it was a day when Brian needed to surround himself with people he loves, who remind him of how fortunate he is, to keep from getting dragged down into the unknowns.

He’d unwittingly done that on the first anniversary of his accident -- the day he proposed to Justin for the second time. And, ever since then -- since meeting Rob -- he’d done it with more purpose. Going up to Central Park with Justin. Spending time with Gus, either in New York or Toronto. Being with people who understood why his mood might turn on a dime that day, and that it was okay. It was allowed.

He was allowed to feel whatever he felt and he didn’t need to hide it or mask it or pretend it wasn’t happening. His past self would have never gone for that, but his present self really needed the latitude.

Brian was lying in bed, awake, trying to figure out how in the hell it had been eleven years already, when Justin began to stir next to him.

Justin rolled over, tucking himself closely into Brian's side, his arm over Brian's body, pulling himself in even closer. Justin kissed his chest, then looked up at him and smiled.

“Happy life day,” Justin said as he brought his head to rest on Brian’s chest.

“What does that mean?” Brian’s voice was gravelly with sleep and the emotions that had already been working their way to the surface as he lay there in the darkness, the sun having not made its way over the horizon quite yet.

“It’s the day that you lived.”

Justin’s words took Brian back to that rural two-lane road in West Virginia, but not at the time Justin was referencing. This was more recent. Last week. When Brian chose to return to the spot where the road took a turn and his entire life had taken an unexpected one as a result, this time in search of closure. Hoping maybe that if he saw it -- sat there in that very spot and thought about it -- perhaps this memory would stop haunting his dreams as well.

He’d been sitting in his office in the old converted bathhouse that became Kinnetik when he’d made the decision to go, but something made him take a detour on his way back to his rental car. A detour that led him to Red Cape Comics. When he told Michael where he was going, Michael refused to let him go alone and insisted on driving him. They’d had a short argument about it, but Brian had ultimately let Michael win.

“I'm not going to repeat history,” Brian had told him. But he knew that wasn't really what Michael was worried about.

In the end, Brian had been glad Michael did the driving, because he had a lot to think about.

Thirty minutes after locking up the comic book store, Michael and Brian were sitting in Ben’s Prius at the end of someone’s long, gravel driveway, beside an oak tree with a scar on the trunk.

“Do you remember it?” Michael had asked, his voice so soft Brian barely heard him, after a few long minutes of silence. “When it happened.” They had never talked about this before.

“I didn’t think I did, but I’ve dreamed about it. So maybe. Somewhere in my subconscious I do, I guess.”

“Christ… I can’t imagine.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to.” Brian stayed quiet for a few more beats. He wished he had a joint to smoke. It might help him make sense of what was running through his head. “You know, I used to think that this was the worst thing that could have possibly happened to me. I used to wish for ways I could go back in time and change something. Make it not happen. But now, I’m not so sure.”

Michael hadn’t said anything. In his peripheral vision, Brian had seen his best friend’s dark brown eyes looking at him. Studying him. Trying to decide how to proceed. Knowing that this metaphorical road was riddled with landmines.

“I think I’m kind of at peace with it now,” Brian remembered saying. He’d still been looking at the tree. Even with the scar, the tree was still surviving. It had gone on. Much like he had. “Life handed me this, and it sucked, and it hasn’t been easy. Not by any means. It’s been fucking hard. But if this hadn’t happened, there are some important people in my life I probably wouldn’t have met. Maybe I wouldn’t be in New York with Justin. Maybe we wouldn’t be married. If I take this one bad thing back, I have to take back the good things that happened after it too.”

Brian clearly remembered Justin saying those words to him not that long ago. Only that time it was about the night Justin was bashed. But this situation was so much the same. Turning back time might keep something awful from happening, but at what cost? What else would have to be given up in the process?

Michael’s only response had been to nod his head and lay his right hand over Brian’s left that rested idly on his thigh. He knew. He knew just how much the instant that tree got that scar and Brian’s spine shattered had transformed Brian’s life. For good and for bad. Precipitated a rebirth, as Justin had so eloquently put it.

Justin’s voice brought Brian back to the present.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. The fingers of his left hand were tracing random patterns over Brian’s chest.

It took Brian a few moments to formulate his response.

“That I’m thankful for everything that brought me here,” he said, the mixture of emotions he was feeling coming through in his voice as it broke just a little. “Even when it was hard. And there’s not a damn thing I would change.”

Justin smiled softly and took Brian’s hand in his.

“Me either.”

They got through the day together -- Justin supporting Brian, letting him feel what he felt. For some reason, this year it was different. Brian couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was or how he felt, but this year, the undercurrent of gratitude felt stronger than ever. Uncovering more of the blessings that this traumatic event that changed him fundamentally as a person had brought along with it.

He couldn’t change it. He couldn’t go back in time to keep it from happening. And at this point, he didn’t think he would, even if given the opportunity.

He wondered if Justin felt the same about everything that had happened to him.

For Brian and Justin, that summer was a time to grab life by the tail and hold on tight, letting it take them wherever it saw fit. Getting back to “normal,” but at the same time, changing that normal. Spending less time buried in work, and more time with each other. Surprising each other with impromptu lunch dates, taking walks through the city, through neighborhoods and down streets that, for whatever reason, they’d never really explored before. Just taking the time to breathe each other in. Making those new memories good ones.

They even took a vacation -- their first one in years -- spending two weeks on a yacht in the Mediterranean, exploring all that Italy and Greece had to offer. But mostly, just enjoying each other. Sharing the experience. Drinking it all in.

Brian became increasingly glad he’d given Ted the clearance to hire someone to manage the construction project on the house, because he knew it was saving him a lot of headache and stress that he really just wasn’t interested in taking on.

One task he couldn’t delegate, though, was finding an office space for the NYC branch of Kinnetik to operate from. Cynthia moved to the city in July, running the New York portion of the business while Brian and Justin were off enjoying Europe. Brian had to admit that it was nice to not have every single task for his New York clients falling to him in some way -- Cynthia had been right, it was too much for one person to handle. They looked at dozens of places and nearly wore out their real estate broker before they finally found one that met their requirements. Eventually, he signed a lease on a space near Rob’s office, and he and Cynthia would be moving their two-man operation out of his home office and into a place that felt a little more official come September. In late August, they hired a graphic artist and a copywriter, and Kinnetik NYC was born.

Back in June, Justin had taken a full-time position as an elementary school art teacher, which he’d start in the fall. He had already thanked Brian on multiple occasions for pushing him to finally finish his college degree more than five years ago, because that was what was giving him the freedom to accept this new opportunity that had come his way, seemingly by chance. Although, given the way Justin’s eyes lit up and his entire disposition changed when he talked about the kids and how it made him feel to show other people how to create, Brian had to wonder if perhaps the universe had this planned all along.

Come fall, their entire routine would change, maybe for good, when Justin started his new teaching job and Brian was actually going in to a physical office every day for the first time in ten years. Another new “normal.” But they were both ready for change. Embracing it with open arms, and seeing what would come along with it.

When Justin got the call about the show, it felt like deja vu.

They’d been sitting on the sofa, watching a movie together, sharing a bottle of wine that a client had given to Brian as a thank you gift, when Justin’s phone rang. It was his agent, whom Brian knew Justin had barely talked to in the last several months. In fact, Justin had recently told Brian that he felt like he didn’t have much need for her anymore, because his focus with his art was on creating it for himself, as an outlet. A release. He didn’t really care if he never sold another piece of art again. So they were sort of on “pause” at the moment. But she’d called him occasionally to check in and see how he was doing. Justin said she never tried to pressure him into trying to do something he wasn’t ready to do, and that he appreciated that. Brian appreciated it too. From what Justin had said, it sounded like her calls were focused more on the friendship they’d built over the years than on actual business.

So when she called at 8 p.m. on a Monday night, Brian assumed this call would be the same -- just a casual conversation between two business associates who had become friends. He’d hear half of the brief conversation, and then he and Justin would be back to their wine and their movie, spending the evening with each other.

But the half of the conversation that Brian heard went quite a bit differently than he’d anticipated.

“Hey Steph, what’s up?”

…

“Oh, not much, just watching a movie with Brian.”

…

“What? You’re kidding.”

…

“I don’t know, I mean… What are they expecting? I’m getting ready to start my new teaching job next week and I’m not sure I’ll have much time.”

…

“Well, I do have quite a bit at my studio that’s already done. As long as they don’t have any specific requests, I guess that could work.”

…

“Sure, let’s talk more tomorrow. Sounds good. Thanks. Bye, Steph.”

When Justin hung up the phone, the expression on his face was one of disbelief, mixed with the tiniest hint of self doubt.

“What was that about?” Brian reached for Justin’s right hand and took it in his own, massaging it gently with his thumbs in the way he often did whenever they were just sitting and relaxing.

“Steph said she got a call from the Michael Paige Gallery. One of their people heard my story and had seen one of the paintings I did for that display at the coffee shop. They noticed it was new, and they got curious about how I was continuing to work, so they looked me up and reached out to her. They want to feature some of my new work in a show.”

At the time, Justin hadn’t been sure he was going to do it. And while Brian really wanted Justin to do it, he also didn’t want to be the one pushing Justin to do something he didn’t feel ready to do. So he’d let Steph do the pushing.

And soon, the show was scheduled.

And just like last time, they'd celebrated with a good fuck.

Brian Kinney’s definition of a good fuck was quite a bit different now than it once had been.

No longer was it hard and fast or bent over the table or the back of the couch or against the wall of a bathroom stall or the back room at Babylon. No longer could he do it whenever, wherever, with minimal thought or preparation. Now, it took a lot more preparation. More care.

But even though it was different, in ways he never could have imagined, it was still so good.

He wasn’t sure why it had taken him until he got to rehab to begin to consider what else might have gone along with being paralyzed from the waist down. That there might be more to this than just paralyzed legs and an inability to walk. That there might have been other inabilities as well.

But he really hadn’t thought about it until it was brought up by someone else at rehab. And when it was, things suddenly got a whole lot worse.

Suddenly, he’d lost the release he’d had since he was a teenager. The one he’d depended on.

And it didn’t matter how many people told him that his body would create new neurological pathways to pleasure. New erogenous zones. That there were still ways to get an erection. That he could still draw physical pleasure from sex, just in a different way -- from touch in the areas that he could feel, and from watching his partner. Pleasing his partner.

The people who told him those things didn’t know Brian Kinney.

For Brian Kinney, sex was primal. A basic need. One that needed to be tended to daily, often multiple times a day.

He’d experimented a few times in rehab. Touching himself. Thinking about fucking someone. Mostly Justin. Trying to see if he could make himself hard. But at that point, nothing worked. The system was entirely offline.

That changed a little bit once his body was out of the spinal shock phase and his reflexes came back online, but it didn’t change to the degree he was hoping it would. The normal things that would get him aroused simply weren’t. The only thing that worked was touch. Touch that he couldn’t feel.

The first time he’d done that and gotten what he wanted, he cried. But they weren’t tears of joy. They were tears of anger. Tears of despair. Mourning what he’d lost.

He’d already lost so much. Did he have to lose this, too?

He wondered if anyone would want him anymore. If anyone would be willing to touch him. To be with him in that way.

No longer was he the Stud of Liberty Avenue, sucking and fucking at the club almost every night. Instead, he was left wondering what there was left for him. How to navigate this new life.

Life without the use of his legs. Life without the emotional release he’d always gotten from sex.

He’d buried all of his negative emotions in it for two decades at that point. And when he left rehab, he was carrying a shitload of negative emotions with nowhere to put them and no way to process them.

In the end, it took Justin to show him how. To help pull him out of the dark days that seemed like they had no end. To love him unconditionally, no matter what his body did or didn’t do. To always be satisfied with whatever he could do, with no expectations or preconceived notions. To show him that positive emotions like love and acceptance and belonging were what being intimate with each other was really about, and how much better those feelings made it.

Justin had given him what he’d thought no one would.

Grace.

Grace he often struggled to feel like he deserved. But always, grace.

It had taken a lot of experimentation -- and a lot of patience -- to find what worked. But eventually, they did. They both did.

And through the process, there was hope. Even when Brian struggled to see the bright side, Justin always had hope.

Brian still remembered the last night he spent in his apartment in the suburbs, right before he moved to New York. All of the emotions that had been rushing through him that night after saying goodbye to the people he thought of as family, and Justin trying to help him work out his stress through physical pleasure. Brian had tried to stop him, knowing that it wouldn’t work, but Justin wouldn’t take no for an answer.

He’d tried to just relax and let go, like Justin kept urging him to, but he couldn’t. Not really. He’d kept imagining how good it would have felt to be able to pound out all of this sadness and frustration with thrust after thrust, but he couldn’t do that anymore, and the reminder, instead of making him feel better, had made him feel worse. He’d watched Justin bring himself to climax, and at the same time, had watched himself go soft, the way that he knew he would. He could see the physical evidence of Justin’s release against his leg, but he couldn’t feel it. And that had been all he could stand.

So he’d stopped Justin from going any further. Told him no. Left Justin confused and frustrated, and himself sad and embarrassed, on top of everything else he’d already been feeling that Justin was trying to fix. He’d cried himself to sleep that night, with Justin’s arms around him and Justin’s warm body pressed against his back, wondering if he was ever going to figure out how to deal with all of the shit that kept crashing down on top of him, crushing him beneath its weight.

In the end, that had taken Justin too. To show him that he hadn’t made a mistake in moving to New York. To show him that he could figure out to navigate this new life. And to encourage him to talk to someone when he was having trouble doing that.

He’d needed to let go of the baggage that was weighing him down, so they could find their connection again. Funny how that theme had come back around more recently as well, in a slightly different way.

Now, it felt just as good to be with Justin -- to fuck Justin -- than Brian could ever remember it being. Perhaps some of that was owed to the time that had gone by since he’d had sex as an able bodied person, with parts that worked completely and had full sensation. But it really didn’t matter. All that mattered was now.

Rob would have been proud of that thought. He was the one who was always trying to get Brian to live in the present moment.

The present moment was pretty damn good.

Brian wasn’t sure that Justin had any idea just how great of a gift the chair that had become known as their “sex chair” had been, with its gliding movement that mimicked the thrust that Brian could no longer do with his body alone. How freeing it felt to be able to do that again, long after Brian had given up hope of having sex in any position that wasn’t mostly passive for him. To be able to assume a more active role again. To be able to do more of what Justin liked. What Justin craved. What Justin deserved to have from his husband.

Justin had given Brian back control, and along with it, a key part of his identity that he’d been without since the day his Corvette crashed into that tree in West Virginia.

Before the day Justin surprised him with that chair, their options, while much wider than they once had been, due in large part to Justin’s creativity and sense of adventure, had still been limited by sheer physical ability. But now, there really wasn’t much they couldn’t do.

Even after years of experience, Brian felt like he’d never managed to make his entrance into their bed very sexy, though it hadn’t been for a lack of trying. Getting his butt from one place to another was a pretty well-practiced, smooth maneuver now, but he still hadn’t found a way to pull his legs up onto the bed without feeling like he was dragging the rest of himself up to meet his torso. But getting onto his sex chair felt much slicker and sexier.

The night Justin’s art show was scheduled and made official, they’d started in the living room, on the sofa -- Justin straddling Brian as they kissed each other up and down, peeling one another’s shirts off. Brian was up for anything -- this was a celebration for Justin, so it was his night, and Brian let him lead.

So when Justin said, “Fuck me,” Brian knew exactly what that meant. Mostly, that the sofa wasn’t going to work.

He gave Justin a ride into the bedroom, while Justin continued running his hands up and down Brian’s bare chest, kissing him all over -- the sensation produced by that a large enough distraction that Brian was glad that he could find his way to the bedroom with his eyes closed, because he was doing it right then.

Justin only stopped kissing Brian long enough for him to get himself from one chair to the other, before he was licking and sucking at Brian’s collarbone while they undressed each other the rest of the way. The electric sensations running through Brian’s body were quickly getting him aroused, making him want Justin even more.

Brian worked Justin’s pants down, the younger man helping him do that as the balance of power shifted from Justin kissing Brian to Brian kissing Justin. Justin’s hands were on Brian’s chest as their lips collided, their tongues rolling over one another. When they parted, Justin took the power back -- his lips tracing a path, licking and sucking their way down Brian’s chest. His warm and wet tongue pressed against Brian’s nipples, then circled them, his teeth barely scraping the surface of Brian’s skin, which made the already intoxicating action even more sublime.

“Want to be… inside you…” Brian rasped between breaths that were already becoming heavier, his fingers grabbing at Justin’s hips as the younger man sat on the edge of the lounge chair they’d found that was the perfect height for this purpose. Waves of pleasure were washing over Brian, becoming stronger as Justin’s fingers, lips, and tongue continued working their way over Brian’s upper body.

“Not yet,” Justin whispered, his lips still touching Brian’s chest, making their way back toward the middle, brushing along Brian’s skin with the lightest touch -- a touch that somehow felt even more arousing than when Justin pressed his lips harder against Brian’s skin, sucking at it, although both actions were enough to make Brian’s breath hitch as he bit back a moan. “I want... to make… this good… for both of us…” Justin’s words were broken up by kisses as Justin continued his journey down Brian’s body toward his cock, stopping at the area of Brian’s hips where the sensations he was experiencing became much stronger and more unexpected. Unpredictable.

Justin’s fingernails scraped lightly along the skin of Brian’s hips as the moan he’d been holding back finally escaped, unable to be contained any longer.

“Like that?” Justin whispered, his tongue starting to work Brian’s cock as he watched, his brain filling in the sensation from memory. Justin stroked with his tongue, then stroked with his fingers, preparing Brian’s body. Brian watched Justin kiss his inner thighs, remembering how that would have felt -- how it had always driven him crazy.

Once Brian was ready, Justin shifted positions, moving his legs onto Brian’s shoulders. Brian coated his fingers in lube, then slid them inside of Justin, slowly opening him, relishing the feeling of Justin’s warmth and tightness around his fingers. Then, he traded his fingers for his cock -- and physical sensation for mental -- moving his hands to Justin’s hips, where he could push against his partner to start the gliding action of the chair. He watched his penis slide in and out of Justin -- calling on the thousands of times he’d done this when he could feel it to remind him how it felt, using the memory to build on the pleasure he was getting from watching Justin’s face as he fucked him. Hearing Justin’s loud cries and soft whimpers as he journeyed toward ecstasy.

As they moved together in perfect sync, the sensations in Brian’s brain and body built up slowly, becoming more and more intense, making it harder to focus on the memory and the visual in front of him as his eyes slid shut and pleasure took over -- overwhelming his thoughts and his senses as Justin’s moans became more urgent and his body tensed beneath Brian’s fingers and then stilled when he fell over his own edge into rapture.

Justin’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, glistening with sweat, as he let his legs fall from Brian’s shoulders. Brian leaned back in the chair, catching his own breath. Justin shifted over in the lounge chair, making room for Brian to join him, so they could lie there together, basking in the afterglow.

For Brian, the act of sex had shifted in purpose over the last eleven years -- going from a selfish act focused primarily on his own physical and emotional release, to a selfless one focused on bringing pleasure to Justin. Giving Justin what he wanted. Of course, Justin felt the same about Brian -- wanting him to enjoy it just as much -- and it showed in the careful attention Justin showed Brian, giving him as much as he possibly could where he’d be able to feel it.

But he knew that Justin had lost something in all of this, too. They both had a whole host of memories that involved sex -- and a large portion of them were things that just weren’t physically possible now. Brian couldn’t fuck Justin up against the wall of the shower anymore. He couldn’t throw him down on the floor to fuck him, hard and rough. And he knew that Justin had enjoyed those things just as much as he did. They never really talked about that, but it was there. Silently acknowledged. Things were different now because they had to be.

It wasn’t necessarily bad, but sometimes he missed the way things used to be. He was sure Justin did too.

But this was another instance in which it was better to focus on making something new rather than dwelling on the past. The past was gone, and all that was left was the future. Their future together.

And their present -- lying together on the lounge chair in the corner of their bedroom, sweaty and sticky and sated.

“Did I forget to tell you congratulations?” Brian said quietly, as his breathing returned to normal.

“Oh, I think your message came through loud and clear.” Justin rolled over toward Brian, throwing his leg over Brian’s body and using it to pull their bodies closer.

“Good.” Brian kissed Justin again -- this time soft and sweet. Justin laid his head on Brian’s chest, his damp hair brushing against Brian’s chin while Brian drank in the scent of everything that was Justin at this moment -- sweat and mint shampoo and acrylic paint and a hint of the garlic from dinner.

Grateful for everything that had been, and for everything that was. And for everything that was yet to be.


	2. Second Chances

_“I think it’s exquisite. You should be very proud.”_

*****

The first week in September was a week of “firsts” for both Brian and Justin. Justin’s first week as a full-time art teacher, and Brian’s first week in his New York office.

It was the also the start of a comfortable routine, with both of them waking up early, an often-shared morning shower (and occasional shower fuck), Justin making them both breakfast, and seeing each other off outside the front door of their building as they headed to the two separate subway platforms that would take them each to the place where they’d spend their days. Functioning like your typical married couple -- something that even in nearly ten years of marriage, Brian and Justin had never been. The closest they had ever come in their entire relationship had been when Justin was a student at PIFA and Brian still worked for Gardner Vance.

So it was new and different, and also kind of nice to just be “normal.” Especially after the chaos and upheaval that had made up the bulk of the first part of their year.

Justin came home from school each day with a new story about one of the students that he had started referring to as “his kids.” Sometimes they were funny, and sometimes they were serious, but they were always told with a smile on his face that lit up the entire room and told Brian that Justin had found his calling. It had taken him a while to get there, but he’d found it. Justin was fulfilled and happy -- all Brian had ever wanted for him.

Brian and Cynthia moved into their new office, along with their new graphic designer and copywriter. Brian quickly realized how much he’d missed working directly with Cynthia. She was his partner in crime -- she had been for more than two decades -- and they worked really well together. She had a lot of great ideas, and the two of them together were pretty much an unstoppable force. Going to work actually became fun, rather than an exercise in trying to dig his way out of a never ending pile of things that needed to get done and yet somehow kept growing, with two more things getting added for each one that he finished.

Evenings were for time spent with Justin. No longer did Cynthia have to make Brian go home at 5:30 every day -- he actually looked forward to it. Justin got home a little bit before Brian did, and was usually in the middle of cooking dinner when Brian came through the door. Brian loved coming home and putting his briefcase down, taking his coat off and going into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Justin’s waist and pulling him down into his lap for a kiss. It was their own version of the idyllic television family life -- only this time, starring two men and no children.

“No children” might not be true for too much longer, though, if Gus had anything to do with it. He’d told Brian during his visit the previous summer that he was planning on applying to a few colleges in New York, as well as a couple of internship positions in digital media. Brian thought that career path would be perfect for his technology-addicted son.

“He gets that from you, Brian,” Justin had said one night over dinner. “You always have to have the latest and greatest of everything.”

“I do at least manage to remove my eyes from the screen long enough to eat a meal or have a conversation with you, Sunshine.”

“True, but still… how many people can say they still have their first generation iPod?”

“You do realize they have one of those on display at MoMA? It’s a relic. A collector’s item.”

“Yes, Brian, I’ve seen it. But that still proves that you love technology. It’s no surprise that your son likes it too.”

Brian had to admit he wasn’t particularly surprised either, considering that the older Gus got, the more and more he looked like Brian’s clone. He’d recently made the transition from the “tall and gangly” stage more into “tall, dark, and handsome” territory, which ignited a strange overprotective feeling in Brian, because he didn’t want unsavory people coming on to his son.

It was hard to believe that Gus was already a senior in high school, thinking about college and making plans for internships. Sometimes it still felt like yesterday that he was born and Justin gave him his name. Thank god Justin was there, or else Gus would probably have been named Abraham. He didn’t look like an Abraham.

Brian still wished he would have spent more time with Gus when he was younger, but hindsight was 20/20. He wasn’t ready then. In a way, it was Justin that had made Brian ready -- showed him that he wasn’t doomed to repeat his father’s mistakes. That Gus really wasn’t better off without Brian in his life. That if Brian wanted to be in Gus’s life, he should be, and everything would work out fine. It had, and Brian was glad that he got to spend more time with Gus now. If he went to college in the city, that would be the icing on the cake.

As the warmth of summer dissipated into the cooler temperatures of fall, Brian and Justin found themselves spending their weekends uptown, enjoying the colors of the trees of Central Park -- in many ways a small forest plunked right in the middle of Manhattan. Sometimes Justin would take his painting supplies and they’d sit on a bench together, Brian watching Justin’s brush move across the canvas as he transferred the image before them into a still form. Sometimes he’d sketch, and sometimes he’d use pastels, but no matter what he did, Brian always felt honored to have the privilege of watching Justin work. He always had. But it felt even sweeter now, knowing how hard Justin had to fight to get back his own emotional release.

Brian was proud of him. How he’d overcome tragedy not once but twice, and come out on the other side, still doing what he loved, albeit in a different way.

And that was really all that mattered.

Now that Justin’s show was scheduled, he was trying to decide what he wanted to feature in it, and finding it harder than he thought it would be. Justin had spent a lot of time over the summer in his studio, working. He’d shown Brian a few things, but for the most part, what Justin had been working on was a mystery. So when Justin said he was meeting with a representative from the gallery and asked if Brian wanted to go, there was no question what his answer would be.

The second they went through the door of Justin’s studio, Brian was already impressed by the sheer volume of things Justin had produced in such a short time. Brian could also see the difference in the things Justin had been working on months ago and the things he’d produced more recently. It was clear how much more comfortable Justin was in working with new techniques and new mediums. There were paintings on easels and leaning against walls, pencil sketches -- some matted and framed, others not -- spread out on tables, and dioramas in shadow boxes that he’d constructed from random objects and pieces of broken things. Another table held sculptures made from various different mediums -- some that appeared to have emerged from the same box of random things as the dioramas, while others were made from clay, including the one Justin had made of him.

Justin and the woman from the gallery -- Jane, she’d introduced herself as -- were well ahead of Brian as they progressed through the room. She was moving quickly from piece to piece, talking to Justin about each one. Brian was only picking up a word or phrase here and there, most of which meant nothing to him because he wasn’t an art critic or an artist, and when he did work with art, it was primarily graphics or photography, not the fine arts that were more Justin’s focus. Each time, she’d say a few words and then move on. Brian couldn’t figure out how she was moving on from some of these pieces so quickly, because he felt like he was being drawn in by so many of them. Feeling all of the emotion he knew Justin had been feeling when he’d put the pencil to the paper or the brush to the canvas or his hands to the clay. He wanted to tell her to slow down and really take a look at what she was passing by, but he knew if he said something like that, Justin would probably kill him later.

So he focused on moving at his own pace, just taking everything in, not saying anything.

He paid a little bit more attention to their conversation about the painting Justin had started before the accident and finished afterward, but still felt like the depth of what was said didn’t do the piece justice. She didn’t know how hard Justin had to fight to be able to finish that piece. She didn’t know what it symbolized. The true depth of what was on the canvas.

When they got to the sculptures, Brian deliberately tuned them out, because he didn’t want to hear her clipped, condensed evaluation of the piece Justin had done of him. That piece was personal. It meant a lot to Justin and to Brian. He just hoped that Justin didn’t want it to be in the show, because Brian wasn’t sure he wanted it to be. It felt too intimate. Too revealing.

Brian had barely made it through the pencil drawings before Jane was exchanging pleasantries with Justin and bidding farewell to them both. Brian managed to look up and say goodbye just as she bustled out of the room, her high heels clicking on the tile floor.

Justin walked over to Brian and put his hands on Brian’s shoulders, as Brian sat looking at the last pencil drawing on the table -- an erotic depiction of the two of them having sex that was quite reminiscent of some of Justin’s earliest work.

“You okay?” Justin asked. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just… taking it all in, I guess. This stuff is amazing, Justin. You should be proud.”

“She really liked the sculptures. She wanted to know if I was willing to show and sell those too.”

“What did you tell her?”

“All but one.”

Brian nodded, not needing to ask which one. That piece was as personal to Justin as it was to him. He turned toward the easel at the end of the workbench, where a painting sat, appearing to depict the two of them in silhouette, making their way down a city street, holding hands -- Justin walking and Brian rolling. The street looked wet, and reflections of the streetlights and the lights from the buildings shone on its surface.

“I decided to call that one, ‘Through the rain,’” Justin said, following along behind Brian as he made his way from piece to piece, stopping to take it all in, still not saying much because he was just so overwhelmed with it all. Justin was chattering excitedly about everything Jane had told him.

“She said we can show some of the sculptures and the dioramas on pedestals, and frame some more of the drawings, and of course the paintings,” Justin said. “I feel like so much of this never would have happened before, because I’d never really ventured outside of drawing and painting. Now, I just kind of want to see what I can do, you know? Just to prove I can.”

Brian took Justin’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers.

“There’s absolutely nothing you can’t do,” Brian said. “You just have to have the desire. The rest will come.”

In a way, Brian felt like he knew that better than anybody, because he’d been there himself. And he knew Justin had been there before too.

After their meeting with Jane, Justin spent most evenings at dinner talking animatedly about all of the new ideas he had for paintings and drawings and sculptures that he wanted to put in the show. And he spent every weekend in his studio, working, while Brian was at home getting more well-acquainted with the television than he cared to do alone.

He missed Justin, but he was also getting a little bit worried that Justin might be working too much. Between his teaching job and putting in work on his art at the studio, Justin was leaving the apartment early and coming home late, then doing the same on the weekends. Brian was well-acquainted with this type of pattern and what it could result in, so he started bringing Justin dinner at the studio to make sure he was eating, and trying to get him to go out and take a break or get some fresh air, but the only thing he could get Justin to do was eat while he worked.

And, just as Brian feared might happen, everything eventually caught up to Justin in the form of the migraine from hell.

It was a Sunday night, and it was getting really late -- so late that Brian was already in bed, reading a magazine and trying not to worry too much about Justin’s whereabouts, although he was quickly losing that battle. Justin should have been home by now. He had to be at work at 8 a.m. the next morning, and it was already past 11 p.m. He had been working late, but not that late. Brian sighed and tossed the magazine aside, picking his phone up off the nightstand. No sooner did he have it unlocked than it started to ring, and Justin’s name came across the display.

“Hey,” Brian said, adjusting his pillow with his free hand. “I was starting to wonder if you were ever coming home.”

The only response he got from Justin’s side of the line was a soft moan and a hoarsely whispered, “Fuck.”

“Justin?” Brian pushed himself up to a sitting position as quickly as he could with only one arm. It wasn’t very graceful, but it got the job done. “What’s going on? Are you okay? Where are you?” He knew he was asking too many questions and probably overwhelming Justin, but they spilled out of him before he could stop them, the panic quickly rising in gut also echoing in his voice.

When he still didn’t get a response from Justin, Brian backtracked, repeating the only question he really needed the answer to: “Where are you?”

“Studio,” Justin said softly. “I’ve got a migraine. Shit, I think I’m gonna throw up again.”

Brian heard the clatter of the phone being placed unceremoniously onto the floor in what he assumed was the bathroom, about two seconds before Justin started retching. Brian put his phone on speaker -- cringing at the sounds he was hearing but he really didn’t have a choice in the matter, because he needed both hands and free movement of his shoulders to get out of bed. He took the phone with him into the closet, setting it on a shelf while he grabbed a pair of jeans and worked them up as quickly as possible -- which wasn’t very quick at all -- until he got them to where he could hook his thumbs through two of the belt loops and hoist his butt up to finish pulling them on. He was in the process of pulling a shirt over his head when he heard Justin moan, and more noises as he apparently picked up the phone again.

“Sorry,” Justin said. He coughed and then let out a soft whimper. “I need to come home but I don’t think I can. I don’t know what to do.”

“Stay there. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay.” Justin sounded like he was ready to cry. “I'm really sorry.”

“Justin, don't. Don't apologize. Just sit tight, okay? I'll be there soon.”

By the time he hung up the phone, Brian was already gathering up Justin’s medications, not really knowing if he should try to have him take them at the studio to see if that would help him be able to get home, or if he should be trying to make some sort of a plan to stay at the studio. Right now, he was cursing the fact that they’d never bought a couch for Justin’s studio, even though they’d talked about it dozens of times.

He was, however, grateful that his car service operated 24 hours a day, which meant a much faster ride to get to Justin’s studio than trying to take the subway at this hour, or hail a cab any time of the day as a person in a wheelchair.

When he got to Justin’s studio, Justin was sitting in the armchair by the windows, and the motorized blinds that normally stayed open all the time were closed. The room was almost completely dark. The only light source was Justin’s computer monitor on the other side of the room, which was providing an almost eerie glow that changed in intensity and color as the starburst screensaver danced around. Justin had on one of his dozen or more hoodies, with the hood pulled over his head and down over his eyes. His knees were pulled into his chest, and his arms were hugging them in even closer.

Brian tried to shut the door as softly as possible, then made his way across the room to Justin.

“It’s me,” he said quietly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch Justin until he knew it was okay.

Slowly, Justin unfolded his left arm, holding his hand out to Brian, palm up. Brian took it.

He rubbed his thumb over the back of Justin's hand, hoping it would be soothing but knowing it wouldn't be enough.

“I brought your meds,” Brian said, keeping his voice low. “Do you want them now or do you want to try to go home first? I've got a car waiting, but we can stay here for a while if you want. Wait for them to kick in.”

“I want to go home. I just… I need a minute.”

Brian squeezed Justin’s hand. He looked around the room, which was somehow even more full of artwork than it had been when he’d brought Justin dinner on Friday night. One of the workbenches was covered in what he recognized as framing supplies. Slowly, Brian realized what Justin had been doing during all of these long hours at the studio. Why he’d been so physically exhausted every night when he came home. Why his arm was sore and his hand was stiff. And it was a wonder he hadn’t had a migraine before now.

“Have you been framing all of these yourself?” Brian asked, his gaze settling on a grouping of already-framed works in the corner.

Justin nodded, barely moving his head.

“Why?”

“I had a certain way I wanted them all to look.”

Brian really didn’t know what to say to that. He knew Justin was a perfectionist when it came to his art, and when he got it in his head that he wanted something a particular way, there was no changing his mind. But Brian wished Justin hadn’t attempted to do all of this himself. They had the money to hire the best goddamn framer in the city, whoever the hell that was, and to send it back over and over again if it wasn’t done right the first time. But none of that mattered right now. What was done was done. Getting Justin back home and into bed was the most important thing at the moment.

After a few minutes in silence, Justin unfolded himself and stood, leaning heavily on the chair. Brian picked up Justin’s messenger bag from the floor by the door, leading the way downstairs to the waiting town car. Justin rested his head on Brian’s shoulder for the entire ride back to their apartment.

Brian got Justin upstairs and into bed, gave him his meds and brought him some water, before changing back into his pajamas and climbing into bed alongside him. By now, it was well after midnight. Even lying there in the dark, eyes closed as he waited for the medications to take effect, it was easy to see how exhausted Justin was. He’d been doing too much. Putting too much pressure on himself.

Not quite six hours later, Justin’s alarm went off as it always did, jolting Brian from a sound sleep. Justin groaned and rolled out from under Brian’s arm on his way to turn it off, then started to get up out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Brian mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

Justin was standing beside the bed, his hand on the nightstand, looking like he was waiting for the world to stop spinning. Brian patted the empty space on the bed beside of him.

“Come back to bed,” he said. “Call in sick.”

“I can’t. People are counting on me.”

“Justin… You look like you’re about to fall over. You’re exhausted. Come here. Just lay here with me for a minute.”

Tentatively, Justin did as he was told, climbing back into bed alongside Brian. Brian wrapped his arm around him and tugged him closer.

“You need to rest,” he said gently. “Remember all of that you were telling me a few months ago about taking care of myself? That I wasn’t replaceable?”

Justin didn’t say anything. He was massaging his forehead with the fingertips of his left hand.

“You’re not replaceable either,” Brian said. We can find someone to do the framing. And if you don’t like their work, we’ll find someone else.”

“It’s not just the framing, though. I have more pieces that I want to finish for the show. More things I want people to see.”

“You have dozens of beautiful pieces of art, already done and ready to go. What you’ve done is enough.”

“I need more, though. What if…” Justin let his voice trail off, almost as if he was afraid to say what he was thinking.

“What if what?”

“What if I don’t get another chance?”

“Justin… Why would you think that? You’re an incredibly talented artist. Of course people want to show your work. There will be more shows after this one -- I’m sure of it. This isn’t your last chance. Not by a long shot. You can’t keep running yourself into the ground like this. It’s not worth your health. You’re staying home today, and I’m staying with you.”

“But your meeting today--”

“No buts. It’ll be fine. Cynthia can do it without me. You need me today. You’re more important than work.”

Hearing those words come out of his own mouth -- and so easily, too -- told Brian just how much his perspective had shifted in recent months. His work was important, but coming as close as he had to losing Justin again had shown Brian what was truly vital in his life, and that it had nothing to do with magazine spreads or market share or television commercials. The most important thing in his life was being right here, right now, with his husband.

Justin spent the day in bed, mostly sleeping, and Brian spent the day taking care of him -- grateful that he had the ability to do just that. Appreciating the fact that sometimes it was the simple things in life that were the most fulfilling.

He’d spent his entire life chasing success -- climbing the proverbial mountain, not letting anything or anyone stop him when it came to proving what he could do in his business. Proving that he could be somebody, no matter how many times his parents had told him he was a worthless sack of shit. For decades, his success in business had been his purpose -- his way of finding fulfillment in this life. Of proving to himself that his parents were wrong. But now, he’d realized that success had been, for the most part, superficial. Sure, it was a high to get to the account, to sign another contract, to be chosen over a competitor. But it wasn’t what truly made him happy.

What made him happy was the person lying in bed beside of him. The person he’d woken up next to every day for nearly ten years now, and hoped to wake up next to each day for the rest of their lives.

Justin was the person who made him whole. The person who made him feel loved.

The next few weeks were better. Justin agreed to send the rest of what still needed framing for the show out to a framer who had come highly recommended by another artist, and he managed to keep his work-life balance more in check. Brian could tell that made Justin feel better, physically, and he knew it made himself feel better, mentally.

As the days until the show counted down, Brian made hotel and travel arrangements for their entire Pittsburgh family -- including the Toronto contingent. They’d all wanted to come out to support Justin. Daphne wasn’t able to come because she couldn’t get the time off -- something about still being low man on the totem pole at the hospital and how frustrating that was -- but Brian had overheard Justin promising to send her pictures. Either way, Justin had a lot of people in his corner.

Once they started arriving, Brian was reminded of how much trying to wrangle the entire group at once was like trying to manage a three-ring circus. It wasn’t like it was the first time they’d been to the city -- they’d been before, for some of Justin’s previous shows -- but some of them always acted like it was their first time. And Debbie, namely, usually acted like she’d never been out in public before. Her loud and boisterous personality might fit right in on Liberty Avenue, but in New York City, she stuck out like a sore, unsophisticated thumb.

Brian was thankful that Jen had been there so many times that she felt comfortable acting as a tour guide for those who wanted to play tourist, so Brian and Justin wouldn’t have to. But, of course, there would always be the family dinner -- a slightly more upscale, restaurant version of Debbie’s weekly Sunday gathering. The same attendees in a different locale.

As much as they drove him crazy, though, Brian loved them. All of them. And he was grateful for them, too. Just as he’d come to realize ten years before on his 36th birthday, they all loved him unconditionally, even when he hadn’t always treated them very well. But, he supposed, that was just what families did. Gave each other shit because they loved each other so much. His biological family notwithstanding.

Their ragtag group took up almost half of Nick’s dining room at Monetti’s on the eve before Justin’s opening. There was wine and toasts, and Debbie breaking down in tears as she told everyone how proud she was of her Sunshine. It was truly Justin’s night.

Of course, Debbie and Nick had to have a small, good-natured battle over the finer points of lasagna and homemade marinara sauce, and Lindsay had to repeatedly keep Gus from stealing her wine glass, and Michael nearly ruined a very important surprise when he started talking to Brian about the work he’d seen going on with the front ramp on the house in Pittsburgh before Ben caught Justin’s attention and redirected it with a question about some book they’d both been reading. But all of that was just their family.

Once everyone had raved about the lemon cake and retired to their hotel, Brian and Justin went home for a little celebration of their own.

“I am so fucking proud of you,” Brian said, his arm around Justin, whose head was resting on Brian’s chest.

“Deb said the same thing.”

“Must be the truth, then.”

“Must be.”

“I’m glad you found a way to keep doing what you love. You didn’t let anything stop you. It took a while to get there, but you got there. You didn’t quit. Even when you wanted to.”

“I had a pretty good inspiration.” Justin wrapped his fingers around Brian’s and let out a contented sigh. “So this is it, huh? The first day of the rest of my art career.”

“Your new beginning. Enjoy it, Sunshine.”

“Oh, I am. I just feel so lucky.” Justin paused for a moment and looked up at Brian. “You know what the benefit is of almost dying?”

“What’s that?”

“You realize how lucky you are to be alive. How amazing every little thing is. How lucky we are to breathe, to love, to create. It helped me learn how to live.”

Brian kissed the top of Justin’s head and blinked back the tears that were pricking at the corners of his eyes. Justin was right. Life was pretty damn amazing, and they were lucky to have it, and each other. Brian didn’t plan on taking any of it for granted ever again, and he knew Justin didn’t either.

The next day, Brian and Justin arrived at the gallery an hour early, so Justin and the people at the gallery could iron out some last minute details.

“You nervous?” Brian asked, watching Justin as he walked slowly around the room, waiting for Jane to return with an updated pricing sheet.

“I’d be worried if I wasn’t.”

Brian rolled up in front of Justin, wrapped the end of Justin’s tie around his fingers, and used it to pull the younger man down for a kiss.

“Oh, so that’s why you made me wear a tie.” Justin grinned.

“No, I made you wear a tie because it’s classy. You can’t wear t-shirts and jeans all the damn time.”

“Why do you think I became an artist instead of going to business school and working a soul-sucking desk job?”

“Alright, twat.” Brian swatted Justin on the ass. “Need I remind you that my soul-sucking desk job has paid for a lot of your shit over the years? The least you can do is wear a tie for one night. I promise I’ll take it off of you later, in the most sexy way possible.”

“Is that a promise, Mr. Kinney?”

Brian didn’t get an opportunity to answer that question, because Jane walked up behind him at that moment, with a lot more than just the price sheet she’d gone to retrieve -- she had a large box in her hands too.

“My assistant just told me this arrived today, addressed to you, Justin.”

Justin took the box from her and looked at the return address, then turned and gave Brian a confused look. “It’s from Pittsburgh,” he said. “But I don’t recognize the address. Wonder what it is?”

“One way to find out,” Brian said, handing Justin the pocket knife he always carried -- the one remnant of his biological family that he actually treasured. It was a gift from his grandfather -- a family heirloom that he’d passed down to an 8-year-old Brian just before he died -- that Brian was fairly sure no one else ever knew he had. If Jack had known, he probably would have taken it and pawned it to pay his gambling debts.

Jane’s assistant called her name from down the hallway, and she turned and walked away, leaving Justin and Brian alone in the gallery.

Justin used his left hand to carefully cut the tape on the box, and a single white sheet of paper slid to the floor. Justin bent down to pick it up, then sat down on the bench and read it aloud:

_Dear Mr. Taylor,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. My name is Jason Harris, and I’m a detective with the Pennsylvania State Police. I recently found these paintings in an evidence locker at the post, without tags, and started looking into where they might have come from and how they got there. Long story short, I found out that you were the artist, and I read about your accident, as well as the show at the gallery I’m shipping these paintings to. They’re a little bit worse for wear, but I wanted to make sure they were returned to you. I wish you the best of luck at your show._

_Sincerely,_  
_Jason Harris_

Setting the letter aside, Justin slid two wrapped canvases out of the box -- the paintings that had been missing when Brian and Michael went to retrieve the others at the state police post.

“I didn’t even remember these were missing,” Justin said, carefully removing the paper from each canvas, leaning them against the bench. “I don't know if I knew. Did I know?”

Brian stared at the canvases, trying to work out the weird combination of emotions that was rising up in him. He’d thought these paintings were lost forever. And he’d kind of made peace with that, although it had taken him a while, because to him, they were pieces of Justin. Not knowing where they were -- if they were lost or stolen or had been pulverized on the side of the highway -- had been devastating for Brian at a time when he didn’t even know if Justin was going to be okay.

So he was relieved, and he was happy that Justin’s artwork had been returned, but there was a small part of him that was taken right back to that day with Michael in the storage room at the police post, and all of the sadness and frustration that he’d felt at seeing Justin’s artwork treated in such a way, while Justin was lying in a hospital bed in a coma with an uncertain future, at best.

“Brian?”

Justin’s hand on his shoulder brought Brian back to reality.

“Hey,” Justin said softly, brushing his finger over Brian’s cheek to wipe away a tear that Brian didn’t realize had fallen. “What’s wrong?”

Brian blinked and shook his head. “Nothing. I’m okay. I’m glad someone found them.” He fought to turn his facial expression into a smile and hoped it looked sincere.

“But…?”

“It’s nothing. I swear. Don’t worry about it. It was in the past. Old memories. We’re making new ones tonight, remember?”

Justin scooted over to the very end of the bench and put his arm around Brian. “I love you,” he said, kissing Brian on the lips -- long enough and deep enough that it would have been highly inappropriate were they not the only ones in the gallery at the moment.

“Better watch out, Mr. Taylor,” Brian said, raising an eyebrow. “I hear fucking in art galleries is frowned upon.”

“That never stopped you before.” Justin laughed. “Although I’d rather not be the subject of a front-page scandal tomorrow morning: Disabled artist makes comeback, gets caught with pants down.”

Brian was about to shoot back another smartassed remark when Jane reappeared in the gallery, and Justin immediately put his professional artist face back on. It reminded Brian of himself whenever he went into a business meeting -- apparently he’d taught Justin well in more places than just the bedroom.

Brian put his own game face on, too -- this one the face of the proud husband to the featured artist.

“Are you ready?” Jane asked, smoothing her skirt and straightening her jacket. She had a megawatt smile to rival Justin’s.

Justin nodded, and Jane signaled to someone else, who unlocked the door and let in the people who had been waiting outside -- the loudest of which was, of course, Debbie Novotny. But the crowd was much more than just their family and friends -- there were a lot of people here to see Justin’s art.

The rest of the night passed by in a whirlwind of hand-shaking and introductions, and watching while reporters and art critics talked to Justin, their tape recorders in hand and pencils flying across their notepads.

Brian was thankful that the Pittsburgh family seemed to be entertaining themselves, which freed him up to just sit and watch as person after person shook Justin’s hand and talked about their favorite pieces. He could hear Ben trying to engage Michael in a far more intellectual conversation than Michael was probably capable of having about any sort of art other than comic books, and Emmett discussing the finer points of hors d'oeuvres with the caterer, and Debbie bragging on Justin every chance she got, but for the most part, his focus was Justin.

At one point, Rob and Adam joined him in his people watching. Justin watching, really.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him this happy,” Rob said. “You can tell he’s in his element, but it’s different this time.”

Brian had to agree. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was different, but he knew he’d never seen a smile that wide -- or that sincere -- on Justin’s face during an art show before.

A couple of hours in, nearly everything that was for sale had a sticker on it, indicating that it had been spoken for.

Brian was giving Justin a congratulations kiss when a woman walked up behind them and said, “Are you Justin Taylor?”

Justin stood up and straightened his tie. “Yes ma’am. That’s me,” he said. Always WASP-y politeness. He was well trained.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I got held up at work. But I wanted to make sure I made it tonight so I could talk to you. You probably don’t remember me.”

Justin shook his head. “Sorry, no.” Brian could see the slight frustration on Justin’s face that was always there whenever he felt he should have remembered someone and didn’t. He squeezed Justin’s hand in silent support.

“I’m Gina Abernathy. I happened to be traveling through Pittsburgh on the same night you were. I saw the accident happen.”

Brian heard Justin’s sharp intake of breath. He squeezed Justin’s hand harder. Brian felt like there was some sort of separation between himself and what was happening in front of him at that moment. Like he’d been pulled into a parallel dimension.

“It was awful,” the woman said. There was a strange echo to the way Brian heard her words, as if he was far away, even though he was right there. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear any more or not. Reading the police report and seeing the car had been enough for him. But he didn’t have much choice in the matter, because he wasn’t going to leave Justin to hear about it alone.

“But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how awful it was,” she continued. “I sat with you until the ambulance got there. You weren’t conscious, but I wanted you to know someone was there, so I kept talking to you. I remember I couldn’t get that night out of my head for a long time. I wondered if you were okay, but I didn’t have a way to find out. Then, I saw an article about your show in one of those free newspapers I picked up at a coffee shop. I recognized your picture, and I remembered all of those paintings that had been scattered across the road, and realized you must have been the artist. I was so glad to read about you and find out that you were okay. How crazy that we both live in New York, huh?”

It took Justin a few seconds to reply. “Yeah. Crazy,” he said, sounding numb. He looked like he was still processing everything that had been said.

To be honest, Brian was too. He was back to sorting through emotions, trying to figure out what he felt. But this time, what came to mind first was gratitude -- a word that seemed to have become a central theme in his life lately. He was grateful that this woman had taken the time to stop. That she’d made sure Justin wasn’t alone. That she’d called for help. And, who knows, perhaps her quick action had saved Justin’s life.

“Thank you,” Brian said, extending his hand to shake hers. He had so much more running through his head, but he didn’t want to say any of it to a stranger -- even one who might have saved his husband’s life. Mostly, he was thankful to finally know that Justin hadn’t been alone out on the highway that night. That he’d had someone holding his hand and talking to him.

It gave him closure. Closure that he hadn’t even really known he still needed.

Justin managed to shake off his shell-shocked expression and shake her hand and thank her as well, before she walked away to take a look around the gallery. After she’d turned the corner, Justin sank down heavily onto a nearby bench.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed.

“I know,” Brian said, reaching out for Justin’s hand again.

“I just… I don’t even know what to say about any of that.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Brian said, tightening his grip on Justin’s hand. “You thanked her, and that’s all you can say. I’m glad she was there. If I couldn’t be there with you, my one wish has always been that you weren’t by yourself. I sort of feel like that wish was granted tonight, even though it had already happened, and I just didn’t know it. Fuck, I feel like I need a philosophy degree to decipher that statement.”

Justin laughed, a small smile spreading across his face.

“There’s that smile,” Brian said. “So, it’s been a good night, I think.”

“More than I could have wished for.” Justin kissed Brian’s cheek and laid his head on his shoulder, while Brian’s eyes surveyed the gallery and the sum of Justin’s work of the last several months. Everything that represented his transformation. The way he’d reinvented himself and his art, like a flower emerging from a crack in the sidewalk -- beauty coming from something entirely unintentional. Something most people would think of as undesirable. But it had led to something beautiful, just the same.

The next morning, Brian was in the kitchen pouring his coffee when he heard a soft thump outside the door to the apartment. When he opened the door and looked outside, no one was there, but there was a stack of newspapers by the door, with the top copy folded and opened to a review of Justin’s show. There was a note on top from Steve, the weekend doorman, that simply said: Thought you guys might like a few copies of this.

Brian laid the papers on the table and settled in to read the review, which was glowing, detailing Justin’s “triumphant return to the art world after a serious accident last year” and how his treasure trove of artwork was filled with “artistic gems, in new mediums as well as old favorites.”

He had just finished reading the final paragraph, the smile on his face now even wider than it was when he’d began, when Justin walked into the room, still in his pajamas, his hair tousled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. When his eyes met Brian’s, he stopped.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked.

Brian pushed the newspaper across the table toward Justin, who picked it up and starting reading, a same smile spreading across his own face as he read.

When he was finished, he pulled a chair out and sank down onto it, still staring at the paper as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“I thought I’d never get another review like that again,” he said. “I thought I’d never sell anything again. That nobody would be interested in my art anymore if I couldn’t do what I’d always done.”

“Well, I’d say last night proved you wrong, then.”

“I still can’t believe it. I just wanted to create things for me. Just to show I’m still here, you know? That I’m living.”

Brian reached across the table and laid his hand over Justin’s.

“That you are, Sunshine,” Brian said. “And I’m glad you are.”

Justin turned his hand over and wove his fingers through Brian’s. “Here’s to us,” he said, his smile illuminating the entire room in the early morning light. “Living.”


	3. Beauty in the Aftermath

_“You are fucking unbelievable.”_

_“It’s true. I am.”_

*****

“Are you sure they gave her hot chocolate and not some sort of espresso?” Brian laughed as he watched Sophia bouncing lightly in her chair, sitting between Esme and Adam at JFK airport, where they were all waiting for their flight to Pittsburgh to begin boarding.

“She’s just excited,” Rob said.

“This is far too much excitement for someone going to Pittsburgh,” Brian said.

“Don’t mind him,” Justin cut in. “He just doesn’t remember what it was like to be five years old and going on a plane ride for the first time.” Justin switched to stage whispering in Sophia’s general direction and added, “Because he’s old.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that last part,” Brian said, with mock indignance. “You think Joan and Jack took us on vacation? I took my first plane trip at 19 years old when Michael and I saved up to go to Florida for spring break my sophomore year of college. It was his first one too. I thought he was going to have an anxiety attack before we even got off the ground.”

“Well, I remember what it was like at your age,” Justin said, leaning forward across the aisle between the rows of chairs to lay a hand on Sophia’s knee. “It’s pretty cool, huh?”

Justin spent the next ten minutes pointing at things around the terminal and out the window, explaining the entire process to her. Everything was already taken care of -- baggage checked, breakfast eaten, and last-minute bathroom trips completed -- and now they were just waiting for the call to pre-board. Their group would be taking up the entire first row of the plane, with Sophia sitting with Rob and Adam, and Esme sitting with Justin and Brian. With as hyper as Sophia already was, Brian was thankful that she would be with her dads, because as much as Brian loved her, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to withstand that much pent-up energy buzzing beside of him for the next hour and a half.

Justin had filled his entire messenger bag with art supplies, and he had big plans for himself and Esme. Brian was grateful that Justin would have a distraction, because they were traveling on the anniversary of his accident.

That morning, Brian had been able to tell that the significance of the day was weighing heavily on Justin’s mind. He’d woken up in a melancholy mood that Brian hadn’t seen from him in quite a while -- not since their first few months at home after the accident. It was a sudden change, because Justin had been really happy as of late, with both his teaching job and his art show buoying his confidence in himself and his abilities as an artist. But Brian also understood exactly where Justin’s morose disposition that day was coming from and why he felt that way, because it was something he went through himself every year. And he knew how hard the first year had been in particular.

Ironically, he’d also spent the first anniversary of his accident traveling between Pittsburgh and New York. He just hoped that today’s travel went a lot smoother than things had gone that day, when the frustration of cancelled flights had merged with the depression and resentment he’d already been feeling. Every single thing that happened that day had reminded him of how things were different and more difficult for him now, on the day when he’d least needed to be reminded of that. But he was thankful that he’d had Justin with him that day to support him on that long journey back home, and to remind him of everything he’d gained that year, rather than letting him get dragged down into dwelling on what he’d lost.

Brian made it his mission to do the same for Justin that day -- to keep his focus on the positive, on everything that was going right and everything they’d been blessed with these last twelve months, instead of focusing on the split second that had sent both of their lives into a spiral.

Focusing on the positive wasn’t particularly easy. The memory of this day was a heavy one in Brian’s mind as well, because he remembered talking to Justin on the phone, looking forward to a more lewd phone call later, falling asleep wondering why Justin never called and wasn’t answering, then being awakened just after midnight by a phone call that turned his entire world sideways on its axis. It wasn’t a day he wanted to remember, and it was a day whose events he hoped he’d never relive again.

But his focus had to be on Justin today. Keeping Justin from being pulled down under the weight of past memories -- or memories lost.

Things seemed to have gotten a little better for Justin once they’d gotten to the airport and met up with Rob, Adam, and the girls. Brian just hoped that trend continued, and Justin really was feeling better and not just putting on a front for the sake of Esme and Sophia.

When the time came to board, they were an interesting group headed down the jetway, with two little girls running excitedly ahead of four grown men. Esme and Sophia beat them to the door of the plane by several seconds, and practically rushed right on past the flight attendant and onto the plane before Rob made it to them, taking advantage of the trajectory of the jetway to increase his speed, while Adam, Brian, and Justin lagged behind.

The girls were two pint-sized bundles of giggles as they all made their way to their seats and waited for everyone else to board, but things quickly shifted after they were in the air, once the sugar crash hit Sophia, who was asleep pretty much the minute they hit altitude, and Justin got out some of the art supplies he’d brought for himself and Esme.

Brian watched Justin doodle in his own sketchbook while he helped Esme with her drawing, pointing out the places where she could shade or add light. Brian was impressed with how far her drawing skills had come in recent months -- it looked like she really had some talent.

It wasn’t too long, though, before she was fading as well, and Brian was only halfway through looking at the trainwreck that was the in-flight sell-you-shit-you-don’t-need magazine when he noticed she’d finished her drawing and fallen asleep. Justin closed his sketchbook and put all of the supplies he’d brought back into his messenger bag, then settled back into the seat and closed his eyes. A few seconds later, Brian noticed him absently massaging his right hand.

“Doing okay?” Brian said, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“What about?”

“Where I was this time last year. Putting everything in the car, getting ready to head to Pittsburgh. Wondering what your plans were for our anniversary. Thinking about spending Christmas with the family and seeing Daphne. How I had no idea my life was about to change forever.”

Brian reached over and wrapped his fingers around Justin’s right hand, taking over the massage. “I know,” he said.

“It feels sort of surreal to think about. How in this past year, everything has completely changed. And it’s not all bad, not at all. There’s so much good that I might not have ever found if it wasn’t for this. But, you still wonder, what if… You know?”

Brian nodded and looked into Justin’s eyes -- deep pools of blue that had the ability to communicate everything Justin was feeling without a single word. Brian recognized what he saw there, because he’d seen it on himself in the mirror, every June. The doubt and the sadness and the mourning, mixed with hope and the embracing of change. “I get it,” he said. “It’s hard not to wonder.”

“I feel bad about feeling this way. Like, I never thought this about the prom and I don’t know why. I need to take my own advice. Remember that I lived.”

“You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel. You’re entitled. You don’t need to apologize.” Brian turned Justin’s hand over and interlaced their fingers together, letting out a long, slow breath. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking today too. There are a lot of memories. All of the things I was so scared to death were going to happen this time. That you wouldn’t wake up. That this time I’d lose you. But I have to remind myself that none of those horrible things happened. And I’ve got the proof right here beside me. You lived.”

“I did.” Justin nodded and bit his lip.

“You more than lived. You’re thriving.” Brian leaned over to kiss Justin, more to feel him and his physical presence than anything else. To feel his warmth -- a gentle reminder that Justin had survived. “Happy life day.”

Justin gave Brian a small smile, then leaned his head on Brian’s shoulder. Brian let go of Justin’s hand and wrapped his arm around Justin instead, feeling the younger man relax and settle in, tucked into his side. These were some of Brian’s favorite moments -- just being with each other, their bodies melded together, saying nothing because there was nothing that needed to be said.

When they hit the ground in Pittsburgh, snow flurries were falling outside the window. Esme was still asleep, only she’d shifted so that she was now leaning against Justin. Sophia had awakened and was just as full of energy as she had been back in New York, as if her nap had merely served to recharge her batteries.

“How do you live with that all the time?” Brian asked, half joking and half serious.

Rob laughed. “Well, I do spend most of my day at work. And she spends most of the day at school now. But really, I think I’m jealous of her energy.”

Sophia was talking about a million miles a minute while they waited for Brian's and Rob’s wheelchairs to be brought to them. Esme, as usual, was the complete opposite -- quiet and soft spoken, just looking out the window at the suburban landscape that surrounded the airport. Although they were biological sisters, their personalities couldn’t be more different. They’d both been with Rob and Adam since Sophia was less than a year old -- starting off as a fostering situation that ultimately turned into adoption several months later. Brian knew a small handful of details, but not a whole lot -- mostly that their home environment had not been a good one, and their mother had voluntarily decided to relinquish her parental rights. It wasn’t likely that either of the girls would ever see her again.

Sometimes Brian wondered if the difference in Esme and Sophia’s dispositions might have been because Esme was old enough to remember some of that, and Sophia was not. He knew Rob thought that too -- that Esme’s tendency to try to shrink into the background and not be noticed, especially in unfamiliar situations or around people she didn’t know, might have been a survival skill learned at an early age. A byproduct of being in a household where her preschool self had never been sure what was going to happen next. Brian could relate to that, and he knew firsthand the damage that could be inflicted from living in fear in a place where you were supposed to be safe. He'd learned at an early age to stay quiet and not make waves. She had too. He just hoped that Esme wasn’t going to adopt the same coping mechanisms he had when he’d hit his teenage years -- that having a loving, stable home now would be enough to turn things around for her.

For Brian, things hadn’t really turned around until he’d met Justin. And even then, it had taken a lot of hard work on Justin’s part to break through the walls Brian had constructed around himself -- one of his own survival skills. Looking back now, Brian was glad Justin had been as persistent as he had been -- and on more than one occasion -- because he honestly had no idea where he’d be right now if it hadn’t been for Justin.

Once they were finally able to deplane, they picked up their luggage and went on to the rental car counter, then downtown to their hotel, where they all crashed for a few hours before they met up with Jennifer for dinner at the hotel’s restaurant. Once they’d finished their dinner and drinks, Brian lingered a bit longer after Justin went upstairs, so he could iron out a few last minute details with Jennifer concerning their anniversary party on Thursday evening.

He’d had Emmett planning the rest of the party, and Brian had been the recipient of more than a few excited phone calls from him in the past few days as the final details came together. But Emmett didn’t know everything Brian had planned -- Jennifer, Cynthia, and Daphne did, and Rob and Adam did, but they were the only ones aside from Brian himself. He didn’t trust anyone else to be able to keep it a secret, and it was important to Brian that this one aspect of the party remain a surprise to Justin. Mostly because he couldn’t wait to see Justin’s reaction.

Brian wanted the party to be really special -- new memories to last a lifetime. And with what he had planned, he was confident that it would be.

Brian and Justin spent the morning in bed, the winter sun streaming through the windows as they enjoyed a room service breakfast and coffee before Justin went off to spend the day with Daphne. He hadn’t seen her since he’d been in the hospital after the accident, although they talked on the phone at least once a week, and Brian knew Justin was looking forward to spending some time with his best friend.

Meanwhile, Brian had tasks of his own that he needed to do -- the first and most pressing of which was checking out the finished renovations on the house, then going to the Kinnetik offices, where Brian was scheduled to meet up with the person who would deliver his standing wheelchair and show him how to use it. Rob was almost as excited to see the standing chair as Brian was, so he’d be going with Brian, while Adam took the girls to see a few of the sights.

Together, Brian and Rob took care of making sure everything at the house would be perfect when Brian brought Justin back there after the anniversary party -- right down to the gourmet chocolates and champagne, which Rob teased him about, joining Cynthia’s camp in calling him a closet romantic. It was almost like they were setting up for a honeymoon -- and, Brian supposed, in a way it was. Their second honeymoon.

Later, in Brian’s office at Kinnetik, he and Rob were both like kids with the latest toy -- playing with all of the features of the standing chair that they’d been shown before the company representative had left them to their own devices. When seated, it functioned like a regular manual wheelchair, but it had a mechanism that, when pushed forward and down, would push Brian up into a standing position, with some strategically placed bracing to give his legs and torso added stability.

“I’m so fucking jealous, man,” Rob said, back in his regular chair after his last turn trying it out. “This is really cool.”

Brian was standing by the conference table, testing out what it felt like to stand next to it again after eleven years of sitting for every single one of his meetings. “It’s a good thing you like it,” Brian said, keeping his voice as nonchalant as he could. “Because there’s one with your name on it. Or, there will be.”

“Huh?” Rob’s confusion was clear on his face as he looked up at Brian from a few feet away.

“If you want one, all you have to do is call and get the process started. I’ve got everything else taken care of. It’s on me. Consider it a thank you for everything you’ve done for me these past ten years… especially this year.”

“Brian, you don’t have to--”

“I know. I want to.”

“I didn’t do any of it expecting something in return. I did it because that’s what friends do -- you take care of each other.”

“It’s my turn to take care of you then. With this.”

“But it’s so expensive.”

“And I can afford it. You’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know, and more than I can say. Let me do this for you. Please.”

Eventually, Brian got Rob to reluctantly agree, still insisting that nothing he’d done was deserving of a gift of this size. But Brian disagreed. At the time when he’d met Rob, Rob had been the exact person Brian had needed -- someone who understood the most challenging, frustrating, and sometimes embarrassing aspects of his life and could help guide him through them, because he’d been there and found his way through. And in the past year, he’d truly been a life preserver at a time when Brian had often felt like he was drowning. Doing this for Rob seemed like the least Brian could do to thank him for being like a brother to him for the past ten years -- an integral part of the family Brian had chosen to surround himself with.

And, because they were family, Rob and Adam and the girls had also been invited for dinner at Deb’s along with Brian and Justin -- although Debbie’s version of an invitation sounded more like a demand. But that was just Debbie.

She was thrilled to meet the girls, saying that she missed having kids running around the house at the holidays now that Gus and J.R. were teenagers. It was still hard to believe that Gus was nearly grown -- it seemed like only yesterday that he’d been Esme’s age, and Lindsay had been calling Brian every other day because Gus had done something to get in trouble with one of his teachers.

It took Esme a little while to warm up to Debbie, but once she did, they all had a great time, playing a card game Brian remembered from when he and Michael were kids, while they ate cookies and Debbie talked to them about what they’d asked for from Santa Claus.

Brian had been afraid he’d have to spend the entire evening preventing Michael, who was the worst secret keeper in the universe, from saying something about the house in front of Justin, but Ben had an awards banquet to attend at Carnegie Mellon, so he and Michael were there instead, much to Brian’s relief. Twenty-four more hours, and all would be revealed, and then it wouldn’t matter what anyone said about anything.

The evening was exactly like the hundreds of others they’d spent at Debbie’s eating too much lasagna and drinking too much wine, but sharing so much love. It was a perfect way to spend the evening before their anniversary -- and so much better than what things had been one year before, when Brian’s entire life had been taken over by uncertainty and doubt. Now, Justin was here with him, instead of lying in a hospital bed, and they’d found their way back to their own version of normal -- a little different from before, but still so good.

When they left Deb’s that night and headed back to the hotel, Brian almost felt like he had on the night before their wedding -- nervous, but excited. Mostly, he wanted the next day to be perfect for Justin. Because Justin deserved nothing less.

But Brian would have been lying if he’d said it wasn’t important to him as well. As much as he wanted to make this happen for Justin, he needed to make it happen for himself too. He needed to be able to share this memory with his husband, since he didn’t know whether or not they’d ever share the memory of their actual wedding again -- and that still hurt. Brian wished it didn’t, because he felt like it wasn’t fair for him to feel this way when it was Justin who had lost so much. But as much as he wanted to get rid of that feeling, he couldn’t. It was still there. He hoped that having a new memory to share with Justin might help ease the pain.

He knew that Justin loved him more than life -- and he was grateful every day that Justin hadn’t forgotten that -- but he needed to have those shared memories too. They were a part of them. The collective that was Brian and Justin.

Brian awoke on the morning of their 10th anniversary with Justin’s soft, warm body tucked into his side, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths as he slept. Justin’s right hand lay on the pillow next to his head, his fingers curled slightly. This morning was so different from the morning of their ninth anniversary -- when Brian had awakened alone in a hotel bed, while Justin lay in a hospital bed in a medically-induced coma. Brian was thankful to have Justin beside of him -- whole and still the same man he’d married ten years before.

Justin’s eyelids slowly fluttered open, and a smile spread across his face when his eyes met Brian’s.

“Morning,” Justin said sleepily. “Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary.” Brian leaned in and kissed his husband, still not quite believing that it had been ten years already. It seemed like only yesterday they’d stood together in front of the justice of the peace, with Daphne and Jennifer and Michael and Ben looking on as they exchanged their vows and declared their love for one another.

The last ten years had been full of change and growth for both of them, and plenty of the unexpected. But, that was life. Navigating it together, they were stronger -- greater than the sum of their individual parts.

They shared a morning shower fuck -- making it work even though the hotel’s setup wasn’t exactly ideal -- before the room service breakfast Brian had scheduled the night before was delivered. The early part of the day was just for them -- to spend time with each other, not worrying about anybody else, until the party with their family and friends later that night.

“I never know what to get you,” Justin said as they sat at the small table in their suite, a full spread of breakfast pastries and fruit and coffee in front of them. “But I saw this at an antique shop when I was looking for things to use in some of my art projects. I hope you like it.” He pushed a small box across the table toward Brian, its lid wrapped in cream-colored paper that had been hand lettered and tied with a red ribbon -- Brian’s favorite color.

The handwriting was clearly Justin’s, and Brian felt like he could see him in his mind’s eye, putting the words down on paper. Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116. A page Brian had marked in a book many years ago, when he was writing the vows he’d hoped to say to Justin at the wedding that never happened.

Brian slid the ribbon off the box, then read the words aloud:

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
Admit impediments. Love is not love  
Which alters when it alteration finds,  
Or bends with the remover to remove:  
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,  
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;  
It is the star to every wandering bark,  
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
Within his bending sickle's compass come;  
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
If this be error and upon me proved,  
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.”

After a few words, Justin’s voice had joined his, reciting the words from memory.

“I found it while I was reading every book in the house,” Justin said softly, his eyes shining, a sheepish smile on his face. “Right after my accident. When I read it that day, I cried, because it was so true. It was so us. True love overcomes everything. And if it doesn’t, was it ever love at all?”

The memory of the words and what they’d meant to him for such a long time was making Brian emotional too. He swallowed hard as he carefully took the lid off the box, which contained another box -- this one covered in red velvet. Brian took it out and opened it. Inside was a beautiful gold watch. The center of the face was transparent, revealing the watch’s inner workings.

“Turn it over,” Justin said.

The back was engraved with three lines -- the first two lines clearly older than the third:

B & J  
12/21  
It’s only time

“I don’t know who B & J were, but they must have shared our anniversary. I felt like I was meant to find this that day,” Justin said. “I never even meant to end up at that shop -- I found it by accident after I took the wrong subway train on my way somewhere else. But then, there this was. When I turned it over and saw the engraving, it was like I was supposed to be there. Something had led me to it. I had ‘It’s only time’ added, because I’ve never forgotten the day you spoke those words to me, right before I left for New York. At the time, I don’t think I knew what you meant, but now I do.”

“You found what inspired it.”

“I know. And you were right. It was only time. It didn’t separate us. We transcended it.”

“I’m glad we did.”

“Me too. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Truth be told, Brian couldn’t imagine his life without Justin either. And he didn't want to.

“I got you a little something too,” Brian said, placing the small box he’d been holding in his lap on the table in front of Justin.

“Tiffany’s?” Justin’s eyes were wide, his eyebrows practically up in his hairline. “Holy shit, Brian. You shouldn’t--”

“You don’t even know what it is. Open it.”

Justin untied the white ribbon on the light blue box and opened the lid. Inside was a small blue velvet pouch, containing the diamond cufflinks Brian had picked out the week before -- simple bars of white gold, set with dozens of tiny diamonds. Justin turned them over in his hand, the diamonds catching the morning light streaming in through the windows.

“For your next big art show, and all of the ones to come,” Brian said.

Justin laughed and shook his head, then looked up at Brian, his lips turned up into the tiniest smile, as if he was fighting a bigger one. “So I can look classy?”

“Always. You know what they say. Put your best foot forward.”

“Jesus, you’ve been hanging out with Rob for too long. You’re starting to adopt his motivational quotes.”

“Nah,” Brian said. “I just know a lot about first impressions. And you made a hell of one on me.”

“Took you long enough to admit it.” Justin smiled, his eyes sparkling brilliantly.

“At least you never took no for an answer.”

“I knew the truth. You loved me.”

“You knew it before I did, Sunshine.”

They spent the rest of their morning and afternoon just enjoying each other’s company, with no obligations and no expectations. All they wanted was to be with each other.

When five o’clock came around, it was time to see the fruits of Emmett’s labor, and for Brian to finally reveal the surprise he’d been planning for months.

Brian had an overwhelming sense of deja vu as they got ready for the party -- this time forgoing the suits and ties for something slightly more casual, but still nice. Ten years ago, back in Boston, he’d been keeping a secret -- a surprise for Justin. Tonight, he was doing the same. And, just like before, he couldn’t wait to see the look on Justin’s face when Justin saw what he had planned.

They went downstairs at the exact time Emmett had told them to arrive -- so they could make their grand entrance, he’d said -- and found their friend standing outside the doors to the ballroom, waiting. He greeted them both with hugs and kisses on the cheek.

“You look stunning, both of you!” Emmett said. He grabbed Justin by the shoulders and turned him around, evaluating his ensemble, which Brian had picked out -- a shirt the exact same shade of blue as his eyes, and a pair of charcoal grey pants. Brian had gone with a darker blue shirt for himself, though his pants were nearly the same color as Justin’s.

“Ready to go?” Emmett asked, his hand on the door, ready to swing it open.

Brian nodded. He was as ready as he ever would be. He just hoped that this time, everything went off without a hitch, just like it had in Boston.

When they entered the room, they were greeted by the smiling faces of their friends and family, all standing up and cheering for them as they made their way down the center aisle between the two rows of tables. The room was dimly lit, mostly by flickering candles on each table, although the overhead lights were on and emitting a very soft glow. The tablecloths were black, with runners in a festive deep red. Servers, dressed all in black, were circulating with cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. A DJ in the corner was playing smooth jazz over the sound system, adding to the mood.

Emmett had really outdone himself, but the decor was still tasteful and modern and more Brian than Em. After so many years, he supposed Emmett did know him pretty well.

Brian looked over his shoulder at Emmett and smiled. “Thanks, Em,” he said. “It’s perfect.”

Emmett laid his hand on Brian’s shoulder and squeezed it. “I’m glad it’s everything you wanted. We’re all really happy for you guys. I’ll leave you to your guests -- I need to go check on the caterer.”

With that, he bustled away behind a partition, leaving Brian and Justin to make their way toward the table that had been set just for the two of them in the center of the room -- a slow-going task because people kept intercepting them to deliver hugs and congratulations and, in Debbie’s case, kisses that left behind red lipstick prints on their cheeks. Brian could feel the nervous anticipation building in his gut as he searched the room for Jennifer, finally finding her and making eye contact with her. She smiled and nodded -- signifying that everything was ready to go.

When Daphne rushed over to Justin and swept him into a hug, then pulled him toward the table where she’d been sitting with Lindsay, Melanie, Gus, and J.R., Brian knew it was time to make everything happen. He waited until Justin was sufficiently distracted by whatever-the-fuck Daphne was showing him on her phone, before pushing himself over to where Jennifer stood along the back wall of the room by a door, behind which his standing wheelchair should have been sitting in the adjacent hallway.

“I think I’m almost as excited for this as you are,” Jennifer said. “I’m so happy for both of you -- that you both have each other. I know it took me a long time to come around to believing you were good for my son, but I really am glad to be your mother-in-law.” She bent down and hugged him, kissing his cheek. “You’re the best spouse I ever could have asked for, for my son.”

“Thanks mom,” Brian said, returning her hug and hoping that the calmness that was apparent in Jennifer’s relaxed smile might spread to him via osmosis.

Brian took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He glanced back at Justin, now crouching down in front of Esme and Sophia, who appeared to be showing off their dresses. Jennifer held the door to the hallway open for Brian, then stood guard at the window while he transferred to the standing wheelchair.

Once he was ready, Jennifer opened the door again and they went back into the room, where she grabbed her water goblet and tapped her knife against it a few times to get everyone’s attention. Once the crowd had quieted down, Justin gently disengaged from Esme and Sophia and walked back toward Brian. He was still several feet away when a confused look came over his face, and he looked like he wanted to say something about Brian’s chair when he finally got to him, but he didn’t have a chance to do it before Jennifer started speaking.

“Good evening, everyone,” she said. “We’re all so thankful for your presence this evening as we celebrate ten years of marriage for my son, Justin Taylor, and his husband, Brian Kinney.”

From there, Brian wasn’t paying much attention to Jennifer’s words because he was too distracted by the anxious feeling that had his stomach in knots. Now, he was just waiting for his cue. Jennifer kept talking, and heads kept nodding, and he could see Justin out of the corner of his eye, clearly trying to figure out what was going on.

“As all of you know, we nearly lost Justin again last year,” Jennifer said her voice wavering a bit.

Hearing Jennifer start to get emotional, Brian had to fight to keep the same emotions from rising up in himself. He had to keep his cool. Keep it together. He couldn't lose it now. Not yet.

“Luckily, we didn’t,” she continued, her voice a bit stronger, “and I couldn’t be prouder of his ability to take a tough situation and turn it around. He’s teaching now, he’s still making art, and he’s still living his life with as much passion and fervor as he always has. But, as many of you know, Justin suffered some memory loss, and there are some memories he never recovered, including the memory of his and Brian’s wedding. I remember what a beautiful day that was, and I know that memory was really special to both of them. So when Brian called me and asked me if I could help him recreate that memory for Justin, I couldn’t say no. So, friends, please join me in celebrating, once again, the union of Justin Taylor and Brian Kinney, as they renew their commitment to one another.”

Justin was still looking confused when Brian took his hand and led him over to where Jennifer was standing. Brian positioned himself in front of Justin, then pushed down and forward on the lever system that would bring him to a standing position. That seemed to be the point where Justin finally realized what was happening, and tears welled up in his eyes as he reached out for Brian and hugged him, gently and carefully at first, then more tightly, clinging to Brian and whispering a barely audible “thank you” in his ear. When Justin let him go, Brian held both of Justin’s hands in his, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him as he tried to remember everything he wanted to say.

“Justin,” he started, trying to keep his voice from breaking. “First, I want to say how proud I am to have you as my husband. How much it means to me to go through this life with you by my side. I can’t imagine it without you, and I’m thankful that I didn’t have to face that reality last year.” He paused and swallowed, attempting to push down the emotions that were bubbling up inside him. “This past year has shown me just how much I have to be grateful for, and what’s truly important in my life. Of course, you’ve been showing me that for a long time. You’ve rescued me when I’ve been close to a point of no return. You saw me for me, even when it felt like no one else did. And after everything changed, you still saw the person you loved underneath. You never gave up on me.”

Brian closed his eyes for a moment, willing back the tears that were threatening to fall. He felt Justin’s fingers close more tightly around his. He opened his eyes to see Justin’s gentle smile, giving him the strength to go on.

“You’ve shown me what marriage can be -- what it should be. We encourage each other and lift each other up, and we’ve grown through the pressures of the present and the uncertainties of the future. We’ve helped each other become what we are today. The only place I’m truly content is when I’m with you. Even when things are hard, you make life better. You put up with my shit.” Brian paused and winked at Justin, who was laughing through his tears. “But really, you make my life worth living. You have for a long time. Maybe before you even knew you were. So today, I want to renew my commitment to you -- my partner, my friend, and the man I want to wake up to every morning for the rest of my life. I love you, forever and always, no matter what our future brings. I’m looking forward to a lifetime of new memories with you.”

Brian tightened his grip on Justin’s hands and blinked back the tears that were beginning to blur his vision as he gazed into his husband’s beautiful blue eyes. The tear tracks on Justin’s face were glistening in the light as he looked up at Brian, wearing that same look of surprise and pure elation that he had ten years before at Boston City Hall.

“Brian…” Justin said, his voice wavering with emotion. “Shit, I can’t think.”

“Then don’t.” Brian squeezed his hands again and smiled at him.

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. I already know.”

When Justin did speak, he did so softly, as if his words were meant only for Brian to hear. A private confession, said before an audience of all of the people who had loved them and supported them through the past sixteen years.

“I’ve loved you since I was 17. I’ve never forgotten that, or how much you mean to me. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved, and the only one I ever will. You’ve rescued me too, so many times. More than you’ll ever know. There’s no one else I’d ever want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Justin wrapped his arms around Brian again, harder this time, crushing his lips against Brian’s in a kiss that Brian knew he would never forget, while their family and friends clapped and cheered. When Justin let go, the smile on his face was easily the brightest thing in the entire room, and Brian knew he’d done exactly what he’d set out to do -- return to Justin one of the happiest memories of their life together, by creating a new one that was just as joyous.

“Now,” Brian said, nearly having to shout to be heard over the excited chatter in the room, “let’s eat, drink, and be merry!”

Brian lowered himself back down and led Justin back over to their table, where their dinner was already waiting, along with two glasses of the same wine they’d shared at the restaurant they’d gone to after their wedding. Brian was sure that detail would be lost on anyone else but him, but it was one that felt appropriate to include.

“Brian, this was… I don’t think I have a word to describe exactly what this was. Amazing. Unbelievable. But it was more than that. Standing there with you, hearing you say all those things...” Justin let his voice trail off. “I still don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“I promise you won’t forget this one,” Brian said, smiling and raising his glass to his husband in a private toast. “To new memories.”

“To new memories.” Justin clinked his glass against Brian’s and they both took a sip of their wine.

After dinner and dessert, everyone took to the dance floor -- celebrating love and life. Brian had switched back to his regular chair and was dancing with Justin to some late 90s pop song Daphne swore up and down was played at the prom, when the music smoothly faded into a slow song, and they all transitioned along with it.

No sooner had Brian taken Justin’s hands in his own than he heard Jennifer’s voice from alongside him.

“May borrow your husband?” she asked, smiling first at Brian, before shifting her attention to Justin and adding, “Assuming you’re not too old to dance with your mother.”

With a smile and a wink, Brian released Justin’s hands, then slowly backed out of the way and returned to his and Justin’s table, where he sat sipping his wine and feeling more content than he had in a long time as he watched Jennifer hold Justin close, resting her head on his shoulder as they moved to the music.

The song was nearly over when Michael slid into Justin’s chair, propping his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. “So, when are you going to have us over for dinner?” he asked, the expression on his face dead serious at first, before he started laughing.

“If you don’t keep your mouth shut, never.” Brian smirked.

“I know,” Michael laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m just messing with you. I’m happy for you guys. And if this means I get to see you more often, that’s even better. I miss our lunches at the diner.”

“I do too. But now that we’ve got an actual office in New York…”

“I know, I know. Your life is there now. I still miss you though.” Michael pushed himself up from the chair and kissed Brian on the cheek. “Congratulations. Welcome to the neighborhood. Love you.”

“Love you too, Mikey.”

“Always have.”

“Always will.”

As Michael walked away, the DJ started playing another slow song. Jennifer and Justin kept dancing, so Brian pushed himself over to the table Rob and Adam had been sharing with Ted and Blake, which was currently deserted except for Rob and Esme because everyone else was out on the dance floor -- even Adam and Sophia.

“Congratulations, man,” Rob said, clapping Brian on the shoulder. “That was beautiful.”

“I’d say it was a success.” Brian smiled. “So why aren’t you two out on the dance floor?”

Rob laughed. “Dancing’s not really my thing.”

“Oh, come on. If I can do it, you can do it.”

“Trust me, I have zero rhythm. You don’t want me out there running over people’s toes.”

Brian looked over at Esme to ask her if she was having a good time, but she had her gaze firmly fixed on the next table, where Gus was seated next to Lindsay, probably trying to finagle a way to steal a sip of her wine without her noticing. When Gus got up and went to the dessert table, Esme quickly excused herself and walked over to the punch bowl, where she nearly spilled punch on herself because she was too busy watching Gus.

“Well, this is an interesting development,” Brian said. He looked at Rob and raised his eyebrow.

“She’s been eyeing him all night,” Rob laughed. “Trying to figure out a way to get his attention. But she’s too shy to actually speak to him.”

Esme stood in front of the dessert table awkwardly, holding her glass, staring at Gus. The second it looked like she was about to get up the confidence to speak, Gus turned and walked back to his table, cake in hand. Esme looked defeated, but she kept her eyes on Gus as she walked back toward their table.

Brian winked at Rob and whispered, “I’ll see what I can do.” He made his way over to Gus, who was starting in on what Brian was fairly sure was his third piece of cake.

“Hey, Sonny Boy,” Brian said, throwing his arm around Gus’s shoulders as he rolled up beside him. “Having a good time?”

“Yeah,” he said, giving his typical teenager noncommittal half-shrug. His mouth slowly turned up into a half-smirk that made Brian feel like he was looking in a mirror. “I did learn that you and Justin are two of the world’s biggest saps.”

Brian chuckled. “I used to feel that way too, about people in love. But one day you’ll meet someone who makes you feel something you’ve never felt before, and you’ll understand. In the meantime, I think there’s someone over there who would like to dance with you.” Brian gestured in Esme’s direction, trying not to be too obvious.

Gus smiled shyly and looked down at his plate. “She’s been following me around all night. I think she thinks I haven’t noticed.”

“Well, maybe you can make the first move, then. Make her night. Do it for your old man?”

Gus laughed and shook his head, still reminding Brian so much of himself. “Okay dad,” he said. “For you. Consider it your anniversary gift.”

“Deal.”

Brian watched Gus walk over to Esme and bend down beside her. Even in the low light, it was easy to see how red she got the instant Gus started talking to her. She nodded her head, and Gus held her hand as she got up from her chair.

While Gus led Esme to the dance floor, Brian made his way back to Rob, the dessert plate containing Gus’s slice of cake in his lap. “So, your kid is straight, huh,” Brian said, taking a bite of the cake. “Please accept my sincere condolences.”

“I must have missed the checkbox where you request a gay one. My mistake,” Rob let out a quiet laugh. “But didn’t Gus have a girlfriend last summer when he came to visit? I remember you bitching about him spending more time on the phone with her than he did with you.”

“And now he’s got a boyfriend, according to Lindsay. I don’t think he knows what the fuck he is.”

“He’s 17, Brian. He probably knows. I know I did, and I’m sure you did too.”

Brian sighed. “I know. Lindsay and Melanie have just been encouraging him to go with his gut feeling and not worry about labels. But Lindsay’s pretty sure he’s bi.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t worry about labels either.”

“I just don’t get it, though.”

“What don’t you get? Just because you can’t imagine yourself liking pussy doesn’t mean your son can’t.”

“Cock is so much better, though.” Brian was being sarcastic, but there was a small bit of seriousness there too.

Rob shook his head and smiled, rolling his eyes at Brian’s remark. “I don’t disagree. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there that like both. Maybe Gus is one of those people. It sounds like he might be.”

“You know, Justin called me a heterophobe once.”

“I don’t disagree with that either.” Rob raised his eyebrow.

“Oh, thanks a lot.”

“But being bisexual isn’t being hetero. Even if he marries a woman and has a dozen kids and stays married to her for fifty years--”

“God help us if that happens.”

“But even if that happens, he’ll still be bi. He doesn’t have to pick a side. And part of your job as a parent is to accept him, even when you don’t understand.”

Brian knew Rob was right, and that Rob was simply calling him on his bullshit right now, like he always did. Brian still liked the idea of Gus being able to just be himself -- no excuses, no apologies, no regrets -- but he also found it hard to wrap his brain around the thought that Gus might not be on one side or the other. He might be right in the middle.

“I wouldn’t panic yet, though,” Rob said, grinning. “I’m pretty sure this is just a schoolgirl crush. He’s a little old for her. Although I heard that Kinneys like ‘em young.”

“Fuck you,” Brian said, giving Rob a playful shove. He tried to look mad, but his smile belied his intent. “Besides, he’s not a Kinney. He’s a Marcus-Peterson.”

“Have you looked at him? Spent any time with him? That kid is all you, Brian. Even if his last name isn’t Kinney.”

“Poor bastard.”

“I don’t know. I think he got pretty lucky. His dad’s a good guy. I’m glad he’s my friend.”

Brian looked down and shook his head. He still wasn’t good with sentimentality. “Thanks,” he said.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

As the song wound down, Jennifer hugged Justin and kissed his cheek before she let him go, and Gus brought Esme back to the table where Rob and Brian were sitting. Esme looked like she was on cloud nine, grinning from ear to ear as she practically floated back to her seat. Gus had definitely made her night. Maybe even her year.

“Is that my cake?” Gus asked, pointing at the plate in front of Brian, which now held a nearly half-eaten slice of cake.

“We can share it,” Brian said. “I just wanted a bite. Besides, I paid for it, so technically it’s mine.”

“I wouldn’t listen to him if I were you.” Justin’s voice broke into the conversation as he walked up behind Brian. “Your dad will eat it all, and pretend he doesn’t like cake. Or chocolate. And yet he ordered black forest cake for our anniversary party.”

“Emmett ordered it,” Brian corrected him. “And it’s your favorite and you know it, so shut up.”

“Actually, I didn’t come over here to argue about cake. I came over to see if you’d dance with me.” Justin was smiling, suddenly looking shy. He took Brian’s hand and pulled him toward the dance floor, the role reversal not lost on Brian as he thought of his 30-year-old self leading Justin through a crowd of dancing teenagers like Moses parting the Red Sea. Justin led Brian out into the center of the room while their family and friends moved to the edges. When the upbeat song that had been playing faded out and was replaced with another, more familiar tune, Brian’s sense of deja vu only grew stronger.

“I thought you said this was a corny old song?” Brian said, arching his eyebrow.

“I’d prefer to think of it as ridiculously romantic,” Justin said, his smile seeming to light up the entire room.

“We haven’t danced to this in a long time.”

“No time like the present, right?”

Justin and Brian had the dance floor all to themselves as they turned and twirled, their hands intertwined as they moved to the music while their friends and family looked on. It was a much different atmosphere than the last time they’d danced to this song -- instead of the faces of shocked teenagers, they were surrounded this time by happy smiles. The love of their family.

But just like before, Brian lost himself in it -- remembering how it had felt to look into Justin’s eyes and feel like they were the only ones in the entire room. Remembering the moment when he’d first realized that he loved this kid.

Thankful to still be here with him, holding his hand, knowing that later that night, they’d be in each other’s arms, at home -- their new home.

As the last strains of the song faded away, Brian pulled Justin down onto his lap and kissed him deeply, for long enough that he heard Debbie mutter to Michael, “Do you think they’re gonna fuck right here on the dance floor?”

“That would probably answer a lot of their questions, wouldn’t it?” Brian said, his voice soft and low.

“I’d prefer to keep up the illusion of mystery,” Justin whispered. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“In a minute,” Brian said, pulling his lips into his mouth to hide a smile. “I have one more thing to show you.”

The family gave them a send off as if they were newlyweds -- although Brian supposed, in a way, they were. But instead of taking Justin upstairs to their room, he led him outside to where a valet was waiting with their rental car.

“Where are we going?” Justin asked.

“You’ll see.”

Once they were in the car, Brian reached into the pocket on the inside of his jacket and pulled out a small box, handing it to Justin.

“What’s this?” Justin’s brow was furrowed as he looked at Brian in confusion, his eyes glittering in the orange glow from the streetlights. “You’ve already done so much--”

“Open it.” Brian cut Justin off, because he couldn’t wait any longer.

Justin took the top of the box to reveal a set of keys. His confusion deepened, as Brian fought to keep from grinning too much just yet.

“What are these for?” Justin asked, turning them over in his fingers.

“I’ll show you.”

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the driveway of the house Brian had bought and renovated, and Brian finally let the grin that he’d been holding back spread across his face. Justin looked back and forth between the house and Brian. Then the keys and the house. Then the keys and Brian.

“Is this…?” Justin looked from the house to the keys again. “Are these keys to this house?”

“Only one way to find out,” Brian said, pushing the door open and reclining his seat back all the way so he could take the components of his wheelchair out of the backseat.

Justin was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, still alternating between staring at the house and the keys in his hand, when Brian came up behind him.

“Aren’t you going to unlock the door?” Brian said gently.

“You bought me a house?” Justin turned and looked at Brian, eyes full of disbelief.

“I bought us a house. So that when we’re here, we can be at home.”

“Brian, this is too much.”

“Nothing is too much for you.” Brian took Justin’s hand in his own. “In fact, there’s nothing that could ever possibly be enough.”

Brian took Justin on a tour of the house -- with its bamboo flooring and granite countertops and spacious bedrooms and a bathroom with a roll-in shower whose size rivaled the one he’d had in the loft. Justin’s mouth was agape and his eyes still wide with surprise and wonder as they ended their tour in the kitchen.

“You really are fucking unbelievable,” Justin said, still looking around, seemingly trying to take it all in. “You can’t just do something small. It has to be some huge, grand gesture, every single time.”

“What can I say? Go big or go home.” Brian took Justin’s hands and pulled him down for a kiss. “So welcome home. Our second home.”

Brian opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of champagne, then led Justin to the bathroom, where two champagne flutes awaited alongside the fancy chocolates from that shop downtown he knew Justin loved. They spent the evening together, enjoying the custom jacuzzi tub while they sipped champagne and fed each other truffles in between long, sensual kisses that led to more -- much more -- as they climbed into their brand new bed for the first time and christened their new home together.

“That was a pretty good wedding night,” Brian said, as they lay together in the dimly lit room, his fingers carding through Justin’s hair as the younger man’s head lay on his chest.

“It was beautiful. All of it.” Justin paused and took a deep breath, then turned and looked up at Brian, baby blue meeting hazel. “As beautiful as the Christmas tree at Boston Common on a snowy night.”

Brian couldn’t speak. He had so many questions -- when, how, why didn't you tell me -- but none of them mattered. All he could do was close his eyes as the tears fell unbidden from beneath his eyelids and his arms pulled Justin’s body to his in a tight embrace. Even if he could have spoken, he didn’t have words to describe what he was feeling at that moment. For all of the times he’d recounted the story of their wedding to Justin, he’d never mentioned the Christmas tree. Justin had remembered that all on his own. He remembered.

“When you stood in front of me and you looked into my eyes, it all came flooding back to me,” Justin said softly, his fingers grazing Brian’s cheeks as they wiped away the tears. “I remember the snow. I remember standing there with you, saying our vows. I remember hugging you, and how everyone was crying. I remember how it felt to hug you like that for the first time in such a long time. Holding you. Putting the ring on your finger. Kissing you. How fucking much I loved you. How much I still do. It was beautiful. And it was perfect. Just like my life with you.”

Justin took Brian’s hand and brought their intertwined fingers to his lips.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Then, now, and forever.”

On the tenth anniversary of his wedding night, Brian Kinney lay holding Justin Taylor in their bed, in their house. A house in the suburbs.

It wasn’t anywhere he thought he’d ever be. It wasn’t a part of his plan.

But, then again, since when had anything gone according to plan once Justin had entered his life?

Justin had taken his plan and torn out half of the pages and rearranged the rest. And when the story had taken a very different turn on June 21, 2006, Justin had merely picked right up where he left off, rewriting Brian’s story.

Making it beautiful. Taking his pain and transforming it into peace. Acceptance. Love.

Just as Brian had tried to do for Justin for most of the last year.

Life had tried to tear them apart so many times, but it seemed like each time, they’d only end up stitched back together again, much stronger.

His life story wasn’t linear. It had a lot of twists and turns, and there were most certainly bumps in the long and winding path it followed.

But it sure did seem to be making its way toward a happy ending.

There had been pain. There had been strife. There had been tough lessons learned, with plenty of guilt and blame to go around.

But there had also been joy. And one common thread that seemed to weave together all of the most joyous moments.

Justin.

In this one beautiful, perfect moment -- holding his husband’s hand as he slept contentedly, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Justin’s chest against his own body -- Brian realized that it was all worth it.

All the pain. All of the strife.

It was what ultimately brought the joy.

And he wouldn’t trade one second of it. Not for anything in the world.

_If we can make it through the storm_  
_Become who we were before_  
_Promise me, we’ll never look back_  
_The worst is far behind us now_  
_We’ll make it out of here somehow_  
_Meet me in the aftermath_  
_Oh, meet me in the aftermath_

_\- Lifehouse, “Aftermath.” Lyrics by Jason Wade._

 

*****

If you've read my early fics, you've probably picked up on the fact that I love Lifehouse. I have long thought that "Aftermath" was a perfect song for Brian and Justin, but when I was listening to it one day as I was working on one of the final parts of this story, I realized just how much it related to the overall plot arc in this series. I wanted to share the song with all of you, so I asked if anyone would be willing to create a Brian & Justin video featuring the song, and [kitkatbyte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatbyte/pseuds/kitkatbyte) answered the call. Thank you, Wendy, for putting this amazing video together! Now, all of that said...enjoy...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading along since I went out on a limb and started this verse back in July, and to all of those who have come in along the way -- I appreciate all of you. Your support and encouragement means a lot.
> 
> I also owe a huge thank you to SandiD, whose input has made this story what it is. <3
> 
> I am planning to continue this verse with a series of one-shots or shorter multi-chapter stories that fit within it, and I am open to ideas. What would you like to see? They can be past, present, or future. Let me know what you want to see more of and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> Thanks again for coming on this journey with me -- much love to you all.


End file.
